Heir of Ash
by Mystique Fox
Summary: Raised in an age of discovery and secrets, Arvella Silaverius is forced into a life that she could have never foreseen. Met with siblings of fortune and terrible temptations, Arvella finds herself torn between what is right, and what she desires. Dodging lies and escaping chilling realities, will she find the strength to change her own existence?
1. Prologue

Her trembling hand reached out to his fragile, shattered face. Her fingers brushed against the damaged skin, tracing the lines of his jagged cheekbone. A shaky gasp escaped her throat as she gently laid her palm against his freckled cheek, shivering at the frigidness she was met with. Tears swelled in her amethyst eyes as she dared to look at him, dared to look at his still form, closed eyes that would see no more.

"What has happened to you, my starlight?" She choked, rubbing her thumb over the blood and ash that had trespassed onto his flawless skin.

Finally, the barrier broke as her eyes shut tightly, a horrible sound wretching from her throat as she cried, screamed, released the pain she had held for so long. He was gone, he had left her, he had broken his promise. She wept into her free hand, held her own shattering face as she cried, cried for the first time in a long time. She was gone, she had left him, she had broken her promise.

After a few moments, she brought herself to open her eyes, to look upon him once more, hoping to see him smiling at her, his smokey eyes so full of life, so full of ambition. Her hand still cupped his cheek, his frozen face. She ran her hand through his hair, running her fingers through his untamed strands, brushing them away from his lifeless features.

The tears ran freely down her cheeks, sobbing as she froze, her fingers idly running through his hair. She remembered when he would let her touch him, let her fingers playfully dance across his skin, memorizing every secret his body held, memorizing every single strand of dark hair. Now, those secrets had vanished, he was now so unfamiliar to her touch. He was gone.

She looked away from him, gazed up through the skylight of stars passing by, of planets spinning endlessly through vast amounts of space and time. She had yet to see what most of those unknown worlds possessed, and now she had no desire to, not without him.

"You promised me, Balem," she whispered, voice trembling, "don't you remember? You promised."

Her gaze was unbroken as she watched the sky pass overhead, she found herself lost as she had many times before. She was a dreamer, a lost soul, a star-crossed hopeless girl with no path, as she had been told many times before. In her sorrow, she found a glint of happiness, a hint of humor as she thought about the first time she had met him. It had been anything but joyous at the time, but now it was all she could find to keep her heart beating.

Her eyes reflected a starlit sky above her as she remembered, as she struggled to bury the unbearable pain she had now felt, and a faint smile crept across her lips. She closed her eyes and could see him, could see herself, somewhere far away when their life was innocent, and dreams were just made of stardust.


	2. Chapter 1

Arvella couldn't imagine a night more dull than the one she was mentally preparing herself for now. Another several hours of entertaining, dancing, and meddling in affairs in which she had no business in, at least not now. She was only 17, relatively young compared to others of her status, others who took great pride in gloating for how long they had spun around the universe. Arvella felt no such pride, felt as if that it did not matter how long one lived if they had nothing to live for. Alas, her words were not taken into consideration for apparently her age also reflected her intelligence, which was another matter she could argue upon for hours.

She gasped as her thoughts were abruptly interrupted as she felt as if the very life was being squeezed from her core, causing her to stiffen into a rigid form.

"Now, now, it wasn't that bad," an airy voice sighed behind her, "if one wishes to impress the audience, one must _dress_ for them."

Arvella rolled her eyes upon hearing the distaste in his voice, a tone she had heard far too many times before.

"If one wishes to impress, one must be able to breathe," she replied eloquently through gritted teeth, holding her chin high as she looked ahead, regaining her posture. She gasped once more as the corset was laced even tighter, stumbling as she felt as if she were about to snap in half.

"Breathing comes only second to impressions, dear sister," he reminded her gently, "this is a very important occasion, one that must not be imperfect in any way."

The handmaid rushed around her feet, draping her smooth skin in waves of light satin. She glanced down at the material in which was chosen for her, something that would supposedly only eccentuate her beauty. The gown itself was dazzling, she hated to admit. The material was of a deep blue, one so deep she had gone so far as to saying she had never seen the shade before. It was endless, mesmerizing, one good get lost if it weren't for the other accents. Deep shades of Violet and cobalt swirled together like a nebula, with dazzling encrusted jewels glittering like stars. Arvella tried not to look at herself as she looked up once more, tried not to look at the reflection in the large glass window. Instead, she looked past herself as she had done many times before, and into the vastness of the universe before her.

A canvas of stars stretched beyond the reaches of her vision, the ever stretching arms of far off galaxies reaching into the darkness. They swirled and shimmered, sparkled and spun. She had become so lost in this sights before, had become so entralled in discovering soemthing she had never known. The entire world she lived in, all of the infinite possibilities, it was so-

"Breathtaking," he sighed behind her, stepping up beside Arvella.

She was jolted from her dreaming, forced back into what was her own disappointing reality. The stars faded back into the background, and she had now come face to face with the person she was most dreading to see; herself.

Too short, not thin enough, caked in cosmetics that she had never heard of, dressed up like a pet ready for a show. This wasn't her, not this refined version of what everyone had expected. She glanced at the reflection beside her, none other than her eldest brother, the heir to her family's fortune, Batair Silaverius.

He was what everyone would have thought him to be. Tall, lean, skin of pure ivory, icey-blonde hair that swept in waves and eyes like a golden sun. He was proper, well-trained in all areas of diplomacy, war, and all-around able to get whatever he desired. He stood straight, hands folded behind his back as he looked at the two of them, reflected into the starry sky.

"I believe we are more than ready to handle what is next," Batair smiled slightly, glancing up to his sister confidently, "mother and father will be expecting us any minute, please, do not be late."

Arvella held her gaze with his until he turned to leave, the automatic doors closing behind him with a silent huff. Finished with her work, the handmaid took a step away from Arvella, placing her hands neatly in front of her as she admired her work.

"Lord Batair is right," she assured her with a curt nod, "you look simply dazzling in that gown, surely you will turn many heads tonight."

Arvella closed her eyes for a moment, releasing a sigh she had held for far too long. Lifting the edges of her skirt, she carefully stepped off of the pedestal, the long train trailing down after her. Her handmaid chewed at her fingers nervously, surely fearful that Arvella would damage the exquisite gown.

"That is what I fear, Briesis," Arvella spoke, releasing the material gently from her hands, "I do not wish to be a spectacle for others to behold, I just want to be myself."

Arvella opened her eyes, her unhappiness evident through them. She was frightened, no, petrified, of what others might think of her, and more importantly, how they would act.

The handmaid frowned, eyebrows tilting in sympathy as she stepped over to her, reaching out with her hands to hold those of the woman she had grown to know.

"Oh, but you are yourself," Briesis smiled, revealing her short mouse-like teeth, "you don't need to see it, just feel it." She moved one of her hands over Arvella's chest, giving it a few gentle taps over where her heart was.

Arvella couldn't help but smile slightly at her actions, out of all the handmaidens under her family's control she had formed an undeniable bond with Briesis. She had been born into servitude, as he sole purpose was to serve a family of higher class. She was Terran, yes, but her genes had been spliced with those of a common field mouse. Those genes made her quite tidy and quick, not to mention meek and quiet. She obeyed orders as she was told, and usually minded her own business. However, that was not the Briesis she knew.

She had known Briesis since she was a child, having remembered spending more time with her than her actual mother. That was not an uncommon thing to happen, as her mother was a very busy and important woman, so she was reassured several times. Unlike her mother or her father, Briesis had always been there to comfort her, to wipe away her tears, to cheer her on when she was learning how to ride. Briesis was her closest and only friend.

"You're right," Arvella smiled, resting her hand upon Briesis' with a soft sigh.

The older woman smiled, dimples wrinkling at her cheeks as short whiskers curled up. "I am very proud of you, my little star."

Arvella released her hand as Briesis backed away, bowing her head politely as she motioned to the door. "I don't think it is wise to make them wait any longer..."

A sudden dread took a hold of her as she looked to where her maid had gestured, dreading stepping into something she could have never prepared herself for. Although Briesis had succeeded in comforting her momentarily, that feeling of safety left her, feeling exposed and quivering. She wasn't ready for this, wasn't ready to face them.

She frantically flipped her head around to see her maid one more time, but before she could open her mouth to utter denial, the door slid open once more.

"Did I not tell you not to be late?" Batair sighed dramatically with a roll of his eyes, storming into the room towards his sister, "we're on a very tight schedule, no use in mucking it all up now."

Before Arvella could protest, Batair had already hooked his arm in hers, nearly dragging her out of the room. Arvella stole a quick glance over her shoulder, her eyes pleading for help as she looked onward at Briesis, who was gleefully waving her away.

This was the beginning of the end.

Arvella was whisked through various corridors, her lengthy dress trailing behind her. For once, she was appreciative of the design of this particular one, how the slit in the front allowed her to move quickly without getting caught up in the skirts. How she had managed that, she would never know. Her heels clicked noisily on the black stone floors, keeping in rhythm with her brother's swift strides. She had to admit, she was having some difficulties keeping up with his pace, but she supposed this was one of his ways of punishing her for delaying their arrival.

Before she knew it, they were there, facing a large metallic door with various designs encrusted in it. Planets with rings, ancient looking encryptions like a labyrinth of technology. None of this meant anything to Arvella, as she had never thought to sit and study it. But now, she had wished for a bit more time to look at it, to get lost in the swirling patterns. She wanted to know what it meant, yes, anything than what was to come next.

"Ready?" Batair breathed into her ear, a short smirk lifting at the corner of his lip. He was enjoying this, that bastard.

Arvella was more than ready to bite back with some sort of snarky remark, but her breath hitched as the door suddenly swung open before them. A blinding light streamed across her face as she squinted, freezing like a poor deer in headlights as she stood there, motionless.

"Their brilliances, Lord Batair and Lady Arvella, heirs to the Silaverius Dynasty."

So this was what the end was like.


	3. Chapter 2

Laughing, small-talk, whispers, lies. Everything and nothing blurred through his ears, his concentration disintegrating as others flourished in this dressed-up cesspool. His eyes flitted around nervously, suspiciously, a certain paranoia taking hold. He knew none of these people, knew nothing of their intentions or motives. At any moment, one could go off, one could have their own motives to harm, to destroy.

"Balem."

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a sudden touch on his shoulder, something that he should have been expecting. He turned his head slightly to be met with a familiar face, one that he had grown to know well.

Seraphi Abrasax, the matriarch of their dynasty, the one sole person he could actually bear speaking to. She smiled faintly, she didn't even have to try. Her lips were painted in the brightest shade of scarlet, her sparkling eyes alive and dancing. She truly looked at ease here, amongst the strangers that danced and mingled amongst one another. Balem did not understand.

"Relax," she spoke, her voice hushed as she nodded slightly to her son, giving his shoulder a slight squeeze.

Balem scanned over her face, his hardened eyes softening at her gesture. She was so calm, so peaceful, everything that he couldn't be. He admired her at times for her posture and grace, and envied.

"I don't know any of these people," he told her in hushed words, voice cracking as his eyes flickered to the rest of the crowd.

Seraphi shook her head, removing her hand from Balem's shoulder. "Then change that," she suggested with a raised brow, a short laugh escaping her lips.

Balem opened his mouth to protest, but before he could form the words, his mother had turned away, being whisked off by a rather stately man with striking auburn hair. Balem narrowed his eyes, feeling the rage within him begin to swell. His mother, hitting it off so well with perfect strangers, being whisked away when it was he who needed her most now. He felt trapped, alone, suffocated by the sheer weight of the conversation in the room, he was so out of his element.

"Something the matter, dear brother?" A voice chimed behind him, one that he had hoped not to hear anytime soon.

"Not until you made an appearence," Balem admitted abruptly, turning to face none other than Titus. If it was one thing he hated more than parties, it was his very own brother.

His black robes swirled around his feet, his hands clasping together in front of him almost instinctively. He must carry himself like his mother if he hoped to have any sort of success here.

Titus merely laughed at his remark, despite Balem being absolutely serious. "Ah, just as delightful as always, I see?" Titus remarked, glancing over his attire. "And dressed for a funeral no doubt, you have such questionable tastes, brother."

Balem rolled his eyes, taking in Titus' apparrel. He was as flashy as he could be, he had always wanted to make a bold statement wherever he went. Tonight he had chosen a bright red suit, the tails of them lines with platinum and gold. Diamonds encrusted his collar, sapphire rings placed on his fingers.

"At least I don't resemble the color of the rouge the majority of the women here are wearing," Balem remarked, his cold tone matching his stare.

"Must you always be so cruel to me?" Titus smiled, moving up to stand beside him, "as the eldest you must know you are an example to me nonetheless, not some grim fortelling of what I have to look forward to in the future."

Balem continued to look forward, avoiding his brother's stare. It was true, out of the three Abrasax children he was the eldest. There was only a two year difference between himself and his younger sister, Kalique, and five year difference between himself and Titus. Titus had always been pampered and spoiled, brought up to think he was some sort of entitled brat. No, Titus was not the first heir to the Abrasax title, that would be himself. His mother had told him many times that he would inherit nearly everything of what the Abrasax's owned, including her favorite planet. More importantly, Titus knew this, and Balem could use that to his advantage.

"Perhaps if you held yourself in higher regards you would earn more respect," Balem suggested cooly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, eager to see his foretold fueled reaction.

"Oh, like mother's?" Titus quipped quickly, flinging his head to face Balem, "I may not be as close to her as you, but at least I'm not still suckling at her teat."

Balem whipped his head in an act of utter frustration, his eyes flashing dangerously as Titus only grinned, clearly pleased with himself. Balem had every notion to hit him, to throw him to the ground, but he held himself back, that was not what mother would do. Instead, he inhaled deeply, opened his mouth to shout, but was interrupted when the crowd grew silent, as the great doors to the entryway began to swing open.

The brother's grew silent with the crowd, gaze fixed to the doors with a certain apprehensive longing. What was happening, who was on the other side? Balem had been given very short notice of this event and had been given very brief information on what to do. As his mother told him, smile, entertain, infiltrate. It seemed had seemed like a simple idea to start but had proven to be an extremely difficult task.

When the doors finally opened, there stood a man and a woman, both who appeared to be around the same age as Balem himself. The man was tall, not as tall as he, but he held himself highly, his white uniform adorned with gold glistening in the light. He had a bright smile, one that seemed all too fake for Balem's liking. He looked as if he had rehearsed this a thousand times over, he looked like a machine going through the motions.

His sharp eyes trailed over to the woman on the man's left, who on the other hand looked completely shell-shocked. Her eyes were wide, frightened like a deer in headlights. She looked petrified, as if she wanted nothing more than to turn tail and run. Intriguing. She looked the part, with a dazzling gown and a face to match, but her body-language spoke other wise.

"Their brilliances, Lord Batair and Lady Arvella, heirs to the Silaverius Dynasty."

The crowd applauded, smiles both genuine and fake smiles flooded the room, all except Balem, who clapped slowly as his gaze remained fixated on the woman. He had never heard of the Silaverius', but he imagined this was their party by the entrance they made.

Titus clapped loudly beside him, a beaming smile stretched across his face. He glanced over at Balem and took notice of his gaze, following it to the pair of siblings who now descended down a flight of stairs to the crowd.

"Ah, the Silaverius'," Titus began, "please tell me you did a bit of research on them before attending their own party?"

Balem ignored his brother, not wanting to admit that he hadn't at all done any of the sort. His siblings and he were dragged to nearly every event their mother was needed to attend, and she must had thought it was important for her heirs to go as well. She told him that making an impression was important to someone like himself, to establish a sort of presence, even at the most mediocre events. He rarely looked into them and only attended because his mother recomended it, and he often learned everything he needed to know just by listening to the gossiping crowds.

"I didn't think so," Titus smirked, glancing from his brother back to the pair. "The eldest brother, Batair, heir to everything the family has. His sister, Arvella, second-in-line to that very fortune."

Balem glanced over to his brother, taking slight interest in what information he had to offer. he hated to admit it, but he was curious to why these strangers were so important, especially to his own dynasty. His brow barely lifted with a sudden interest as he folded his arms across his chest.

"What is it that the Silaverius' make their fortune from?" Balem asked, looking back to the siblings.

"So glad you asked, brother," Titus grinned, puffing up like a proud toad as he knew something his brother didn't. "Look around you, what so you see?"

Balem sighed annoyingly, not willing to put up with one of Titus' games. Seeing as he had no other choice, he allowed his gaze to look lazily around the room, and back to his brother.

"I see three-hundred people with nothing better to do other than to drink and dance," Balem answered stoically, looking to Titus with a rather exasperated expression.

"No, no, no," Titus shook his head, placing a hand on Balem's shoulder, "look beyond all of that, look around us." He moved his hand across them, an unamused Balem following his gesture.

"The ship, this very airship," Titus explained, pointing at the ceiling, "the Silaverius' made their fortune on the design and production of luxury aircrafts such as this, not to mention the models you see defending our very homes."

It was amazing how remarkably stupid Balem had felt, how could he not figure that out himself? Of course they would design airships, that was one of the only intelligent conclusions. He shook his shoulder, causing Titus' hand to come loose, having enough of Titus' proximity to him.

He remained silent, looking back to where Batair and Arvella had become lost in the crowd, locking in when he spotted the woman trying to weave her way out of the dozens of people. She looked distressed, panicked like something was following her. He had a notion to help, but before he could make a move, Titus had already caught sight of this fleeting crimson-haired woman.

Titus grinned, stepping away from Balem as he straightened his suit, combed his fingers through his hair as he set his target. Balem knew what his intentions were and shook his head, secretly wanting the poor girl to have a chance to escape before Titus latched onto her. Balem took a step forward in an attempt to halt Titus, but he was too late.

"Like I said, brother, Titus grinned as he spun around to face Balem, backing away quickly, "you need to do your research first."

With that, Titus had begun to weave his way through the crowd like a tiger stalking its prey through the grass. He blended in well with this crowd, Balem had to admit and felt that same feeling come back, the same feeling he had gotten from his mother. He shook his head, looking away, and by the time he searched for his brother once more, he was already gone into the waves of aristocracy, ready to pounce on that poor girl. Balem could only hope she would make it out of there alive and in one piece.


	4. Chapter 3

Arvella held her breath for the longest time, forgetting momentarily how to breathe. She was frozen in place, squinting with watery eyes from the onslaught of the brightness, from the sheer matter that she had been entirely and utterly unprepared for this. It took a well-concealed jerk from her brother to force her to step out into the light, to expose her to the uncomfortable warmth that now surrounded them.

Her eyes adjusted slowly, as her senses had become completely overwhelmed. Eyes wide, she slowly looked over the crowd before her, at all of the faces she had never seen before. Her breathing was shallow, her ears felt as if she had spent an hour underwater. This was all too much.

She was knocked from her trance-like state when the room began to applaud, the sound crashing through her head like a million drums sounding off at once. Her ears rang painfully, her eyes flooded with hundreds of hands fluttering. She felt as if she were about to faint when she felt a hand enclose around hers, giving it a tight squeeze. She supposed her brother was trying to be comforting, but to her it felt as if he had placed a shackle around her wrist. He didn't want her to go anywhere.

To her relief, the applause disappeared, but she still found that she was frozen in place. Hundreds of pairs of eyes looking at her, judging her on what first impression she made. She felt like a fish trapped behind glass, all for the amusement of others. She felt trapped, humiliated, frightened.

Before she could fathom what was happening, she felt her arm being tugged as Batair began to descend down the stairs, into the swarm of socialites. He didn't give her an option and practically dragged her down with him. She could have dug her heels into the ground, thrashed about and screamed for him to release her, but all of that seemed useless now.

She gasped as she was swallowed by the sea of people, drowned out by conversations and whispers. Drunken laughter deafened one ear while the other caught the tail-end of a secret. Her head spun with all of the voices she heard, of all the bits and pieces of words she caught. The variety of colors that surrounded her were deep and vibrant, bright and uncontrollable. It seemed as if every single person here was dressed to impress one another, as if to outdo what they had already done before.

The colors began to mix together, a headache starting to pulsate through her head.

"Ah, there you two are!"

Arvella snapped back into reality as the familiar voice filled her ears and turned her head from the general direction it had come from. It took her a minute, but she finally sorted out the face of her mother from the horde.

She looked as beautiful as she always did, even with her age she was radiant. Her golden hair was swept elegantly over her head, spun around in braids resembling the branches of a tree. Gems of all colors hung from these pieces, giving her a brilliant silhouette.

"Well, just look at you," she beamed, taking Arvella's hands into hers, away from Batair, "you look positively divine."

Arvella looked up into her mother's dark orchid eyes, the woman practically glowing from the sight of her children. She was proud of her, Arvella could tell. Her bright smile glistened in the light, her painted lips a dark and lustrous. This was everything her mother had wanted it to be, if only Arvella could ay the same thing.

"Thank-you," Arvella replied sheepishly, ducking away from her mother's stare. None of this felt right to her. The guests, the ambiance, the way the room resounded in nothing but joy; there was a tension, and she could feel it.

Her mother released her hands as she looked to her right, where a tall woman stepped up beside her. Her hair was dark, done up in a simple yet elegant manner. Adorned on her head was a golden headpiece, exquisite, but nothing over the top. She appeared rather young, Arvella would almost place her next to her own age, but upon looking into her eyes, she saw something much older, wiser.

"Please, let me introduce Seraphi of the Abrasax dynasty," her other spoke, placing a gentle hand on the arm of the other woman. "These are my children, Batair, and Arvella."

"_The_ Abrasaxes?" Batair intervened, taking a step forward as a sudden interest took hold of him.

He presented himself eloquently, gently taking Seraphi's hand in his own and giving it a light kiss as he bowed, glancing up at her.

"It is an honor to meet such a distinguished character," Batair complimented, straightening as he released her hand, "and might I say you are much more beautiful in person."

Seraphi smiled with a rehearsed curt nod, Arvella could tell she had done this several times before.

Arvella stood there motionless, staring blankly at the woman before her, as she had never heard of the Abrasaxes before. It wasn't until she felt a blaring stare at her that she turned to look at her own mother, who gaze her a quick gesture for her to do the same as her brother had done.

"O-oh," Arvella stuttered, looking as if she had snapped out of a daydream, "it is very nice to meet you." Arvella did a quick curtsy, stumbling slightly as her heel caught the hem of her dress. She quickly recovered, embarrassed, as she heard a few others around her laugh under their breaths, including her own brother's. Fantastic, she had messed this bit up as well.

She straightened up quickly as she avoided Seraphi's gaze, quickly brushing a strand of her claret hair behind her ear out of habit. She didn't want to meet this woman's gaze, didn't want to see the unimpressed look that would read in her eyes. Yet, something drew her to them, a force that was undeniably irresistible.

Arvella dropped her hand away from her hair slowly, her eyes flickering up to Seraphi. Instead of being met with utter disgust, she was met with a look of amusement, a bit of playfulness dancing in her eyes. She was smiling brilliantly as if she had just seen something so joyous she was about to burst.

Needless to say, Arvella was confused.

"Charmed, really," Seraphi replied, her voice silky as she laughed slightly, "what beautiful heirs you have, Fanara, absolutely splendid."

Arvella glanced over to her other, who seemed fit to burst with pride. Clearly impressing this Abrasax woman was on her mind, and it seemed as if she had succeeded in one aspect.

Seraphi placed her hands neatly in front of her, taking a step back from Arvella and her brother.

Children? Arvella was stunned. This woman, who looked no older than herself, had children? It was plausible, of course, but they must had been young.

"You two really must meet my children," she insisted with a small smile, "I think the lot of you would truly get along quite well."

Batair nodded his head, giving another short bow as he flashed another one of his signature grins.

"It would be our honor," he responded, giving a glance over to his sister, expecting some sort of confirmation from her.

Arvella took a deep breath, ready to respond with an expectant answer. She parted her lips but hesitated when a sudden feeling of dread took hold of her. She stopped, frozen as the images around her began to swirl, began to contort into odd forms. Her hearing deafened as she looked around, everything halting as if the world were set into slow motion. She could see her brother trying to speak to her, but nothing came out of his mouth. She began to hear things, voices she had never heard before, whispers in every corner of her mind.

"Arvella? Are you alright dear?" Her mother spoke, placing a gentle hand on her daughter's shoulder, "Arvella, what's the matter?"

She snapped her head quickly back to her mother, eyes wide with terror as she backed away, moving out of her touch. Something was wrong, something here did not feel right. She stumbled backward, so eager to find an exit, any way to get out of here, away fro these people.

"Arvella, have you gone mad?" Her brother barked, turning to face the distraught girl.

"I-I have to go," she stammered, placing a hand to her head as it began to throb once more, "I-I don't feel well...sorry."

With that she spun around, gown swirling at her feet as she shuffled through the crowd. She didn't want to push anyone, didn't want to shove, but she needed to escape. She breathed heavily as she twisted and turned, uttering short apologies under her breath. As she weaved herself deeper into the sea of guests, it appeared as if there were truly no escape.

She panicked, felt her lungs tighten as she gasped for air, the people around her nearly squeezing the life out of her. She became frantic, quickened her pace as she tried to push through, nearly suffocating in the heavy perfumes that mixed and putrified.

She received a number of dirty looks, glances of confusion and stares of concern. She ignored them all, the exit the only true thing on her mind. She nearly sighed with relief as she spotted a set of golden doors on the other side of the room, so close yet so far out of her reach. If she just pushed a little further, just a few more steps...

"Are you alright, miss?"

Arvella nearly ran into the gentleman that spoke to her, as he seemed to manifest out of thin air before her. She stopped, giving him a quick look before craning her neck to look over his shoulder at the doors, itching to break through them.

"Yes, perfectly fine," Arvella nodded quickly, taking a step to his side as a means to keep moving, "I just need some air."

"Isn't it a little rude to leave your own party only minutes after you arrive?" The man spoke once more, sidestepping to block her path.

Arvella narrowed her eyes in frustration, seeing as he was the only thing standing between her and her freedom, she wasn't about to put up with that.

"Oh, but it's not my party," Arvella corrected, flashing him a fake smile as she stepped to the other side, hurrying to try and get past him.

To her dismay, the man stepped in front of her once more, and somehow she knew there was no escaping this. She took a step back, straightening her posture as she tried to relax, taking a deep breath as she faced her pursuer.

The man was young, slightly taller than herself, and was wearing perhaps the brightest shade of scarlet she had ever seen. it nearly hurt her eyes looking at him, so she focused on his placid face instead. He was handsome in an aspect, she supposed, with thick, dark beige hair that swept neatly to one side. His eyes were perhaps his most interesting feature, as they were a striking hazel.

"I'm sorry if I seem a little forward," the man spoke, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, "but the moment I saw you I knew I had to meet you." He reached out and took her hand in his, bowing low as he placed a kiss on the top of her hand. A gesture like this would have made any woman swoon before him, but to Arvella that feeling of utter dread had returned once more.

"I am Titus, third heir to the Abrasax dynasty," the man spoke, straightening as he still held her hand in his.

Abrasax. There was that name again. Titus spoke his name as if it held some sort of power, something that would make her drop and kiss his feet. A name was a name, it was how one carried it that held some worth. She wondered if he were the sibling to Seraphi, for they appeared to be the same age. A thought crossed her mind, that perhaps this was Seraphi's child, but she quickly shook her head as that was ridiculous, she wasn't nearly old enough to be his mother.

"Pleasure, I'm sure," Arvella replied, glancing down at their holding hands. She quickly snatched hers away, feeling rather uncomfortable with the situation already. She had never met this man before and would do anything to get away from him.

"Oh, no need to introduce yourself," Titus laughed, retreating his own hand to his side, "I know exactly who you are, Arvella." His gaze wandered from her face, down her body as if he were taking in every bit. His eyes wandered back up slowly, a smirk creeping across his lips.

"Might I add, you look simply stunning."

Arvella wanted nothing more than to simply just disappear, wanting nothing more than to retreat back to her quarters. She wanted to go home, wanted to return to her books and stables. This was no place for her, no place among these riches and hierarchies.

"T-thanks," she stuttered, faking another grin, "but I really must g-"

She was cut short when the sound of music began to fill the air, a beautiful piece on a violin, accompanied soon by an array of other beautiful instruments. Like clockwork, gowns began to swirl as couples began to dance, the room becoming a swirl of vibrant silks.

"Would you spare me this quick dance?" Titus interrupted, taking hold of Arvella's hands, "it would be an honor to dance with none other than a Silaverius heir, let alone a beautiful woman like yourself."

Before Arvella could protest, she was led into a waltz by Titus, his hand resting on her waist as hers with default fell to his shoulder. He swirled her around, his steps so precise, so well-practiced.

"Oh, I don't dance," Arvella laughed nervously, looking down at her own feet. Her steps were out of place, out of rhythm, and before she knew it she had already stepped on his foot.

Titus winced noticeably but covered it up well as he merely smiled even brighter at her, leading her across the floor.

"Don't worry, just follow my lead," Titus told her in hushed words, leaning closer so he was merely inches from her face.

Arvella looked up at him sheepishly, looking into eyes of chestnut. She couldn't get lost in them, couldn't see past a glassy look she got from them. Something about him was off, a certain fakeness she couldn't get past. Something was wrong, she shouldn't be here.

She looked away quickly, leaning back looking around her at the others spinning, laughing, enjoying themselves. She was anything but enjoying herself, she needed to go.

She stopped so abruptly in her tracks that it sent her partner off, causing him to stumble in his perfection. She pried herself away from him, looking to Titus apologetically as he recomposed himself, sending a cold glare in her direction.

Arvella had no time for apologies, no time for goodbyes, and before he could snatch her back up, she rushed past him and back into the shifting pairs of dancers. She barely heard the music as she rushed past them, didn't hear the cried from Titus as he beckoned her back. She dare not look over her shoulder, dare not see the look on his face.

She spotted her target once more and this time moved with more aggression, more grace. She stumbled forward, nearly falling, but caught herself as she fell onto the doors. She fumbled for the release knob, pressing a shaky hand against it as the doors opened with a hiss. She nearly fell through it, so desperate for her solitude, so desperate to get away from them.

She wasn't going back.


	5. Chapter 4

Balem was growing rather bored. Arms crossed, foot tapping in a frantic, off-beat manner, he scanned the room with unamused eyes. He winced as the music started, his ears being filled with the utterly joyous tune being played out. This was dreadful.

He stepped back, out of crowds of people beginning to dance and swirl, the women giggling with protest as their partners twirled them around. He rolled his eyes, pressing his back against the wall with a dramatic sigh, he was ready to leave. Whatever had possessed him to stare aimlessly at the crowd was beyond his idea, but as he watched a certain pair caught his eye.

His brother was easy to spot among them, spinning about like a bright red apple. He looked ridiculous in his eyes, but apparently to the other party-goers he fit right in. Balem glanced down at his own attire, at the plain colors he had chosen to wear. Black with a splash of grey, a bit of gold lining adorning his silks. He hated standing out, being spotted, but he was starting to think it might have been a mistake, as he was clearly the one standing out. Black was always elegant, as his mother had always told him.

He focused back on the sight of his brother, shaking his head as he noticed the woman he was helplessly spinning about. Her dress moved gracefully, the jewels upon it glistening like stars, it reminded him of the endless sky. His eyes trailed upwards from her stumbling feet, to her delicate face framed by claret curls. He found himself staring, found himself studying her distraught face, her subtle features twisted with a certain fear.

He brought a hand up to his lips, pressing his thumb to them as he watched them weave in and out between the other couples, Titus' face calm and collected. There was no secret to what his brother's intentions were with the girl. She came from money, power, from a fortunate dynasty different from their own. Titus could easily snatch her up for himself, eventually climbing to the top. Of course, his brother's schemes usually ended with abrupt and utter failure, so Balem had very low hopes for him and was glad.

"Has something caught your eye, brother?"

Balem was jolted out of his thoughts when the sickeningly sweet voice filled his ears and turned to meet the source of it.

Kalique had nearly appeared out of thin air, her flowing white dress swirling around her in tufts, nearly five times wider than she was. She always had a soft spot for fluffy things, including her ball gowns. The gown was splashed in cool palettes of rose and an icy-blue, mixing with a certain girlish giddiness. She folded her hands in front of her neatly, wide eyes bright and expecting to her elder brother.

"How could Titus' blaring suit not?" Balem answered coldly, flicking his eyes back to the dancing Titus.

Kalique giggled slightly at his response, Balem was not seeing what was so funny about his honesty. He found her laugh to be annoying, but at least she was slightly more bearable than Titus.

"I think you and I both know it was not Titus you were staring at," she prompted with a short wink, "she's very lovely, I've never seen her before. I just met her brother, Batair, he's a very noble gentleman."

Balem could feel the heat rise in his cheeks, not because of what she spoke was true, but because he was embarrassed that she would suggest such a notion. He certainly wasn't smitten with this Silaverius girl, he was merely interested in her apparent distaste for his brother who she had known for less than a minute now. Seeing someone detest Titus (besides himself, of course) filled him with a warmth that he couldn't describe.

"Don't be ridiculous," Balem spat, refusing to look his sister in the eye, "just look at her, she's falling over her own feet, clearly she isn't suitable for this style of life."

"But neither are you, brother," Kalique quipped quickly, raising a knowing brow, "just look at you, secluded in this corner of yours over here, you want nothing to do with this party, do you?"

Balem rolled his eyes to the ceiling, pretending to ignore what Kalique had suggested. Sure, he didn't like the swarms of giddy people all crammed into a room, he didn't like the airy atmosphere either, but he was suited for this lifestyle, bred for it. A bit of rage swelled in him as doubt began to take over. He wasn't a socialite like Titus or Kalique, wasn't loud like the two of them either. He didn't have the forward courtesies of his mother, but he had her intelligence, her well-kept temper, and her undeniable grace. He was an Abrasax, through and through, and that was more than he could ask for.

"Oh! Would you look at that!" Kalique suddenly shouted, a bit surprised as her eyes followed someone retreating rather quickly through the crowd, "it looks as if Titus has driven yet another woman absolutely mad."

Balem barely heard Kalique's laugh as his head snapped forward, eyes immediately latching onto the sight of the fleeting girl with the starry dress. She was moving quickly, frantically, stumbling and pushing as if she were trying to escape. She reminded him of an animal trapped underwater, struggling to the surface for air to breathe. She was so panicked, so flustered, so strange.

Balem couldn't help but smirk, his eyes brightening from the sight of Titus being figuratively left in the dust. He deserved that more than anything, he had to learn that he could not obtain everything that he desired no matter what. He had to give credit to the girl, not all those who met face-to-face with Titus actually made it out in one piece.

He held a satsified smirk as Titus stormed over to the pair of siblings, the mania twisted into his features.

"Dear Titus, why ever is your face the same shade as your suit?" Kalique asked innocently, raising a hand to hide the wide smile she now wore on her face.

Titus snapped his head to Kalique, narrowing his eyes into a glare that would turn even a Basilisk to stone. He raked his fingers through his hair, a pathetic act to stay calm, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath.

"She's simply miserable," he declared, the tension reaking through his voice, "she can't dance, can't hold a conversation, and gets distracted much too easily."

"Perhaps it was the company she held, brother, that made her feel so uneasy," Balem finally spoke, his smirk still smeared across his lips, "it wouldn't be the first time a woman has retreated from your arms."

Titus flicked his attention back to Balem, his stare heated, teeth gritted with fury. If it was one thing Titus hated, it was the admittance of defeat. He had lost this girl, no matter how much he would deny it, and Balem knew that was his very weakness. Balem enjoyed this more than anything, to see his brother in such disarray. He had made so many cruel jabs at him throughout his life, calling Balem an assortment of things. It was his turn now to play his part of the "cruel eldest brother" time to give Titus a taste of how cruel he could really be.

"At least I have company," Titus hissed through his teeth, "these people, they look up to me. I'm admired, looked at as an equal if not more. No matter how you look at it Balem, it is you who does not belong here."

Balem's smirk quickly disappated, his face hardened with contempt. His nostrils flared as his breathing became shallow, deep. He couldn't let Titus get to him once more, couldn't let Titus turn this dilemma on himself. He remained silent, lost for words on what to tell him, how to snap back.

"You might as well go find mother," Titus leered, a smile creeping onto his lips, "she's apparently the only woman whose company you can keep."

Kalique gave Titus a quick kick in the ankle, causing Titus to wince with pain. He turned his glare to his sister before looking back to Balem, the golden victory dancing in his eyes.

Balem stiffened, feeling his eyes well up with tears. no, he couldn't be seen like this, couldn't show Titus he had succeeded. In a flurry of black silk, Balem whipped around, his black cloak whipping behind him like a storm cloud.

"Now look at what you've done," Kalique spat at Titus, "you've ruined a perfectly good family moment."

Balem did not know where he was going, did not know where his anger would lead. He blinked away tears, shoving past crowds powerfully, muscling his way out of the room. Angry gasps and shouts filled his ears, the sounds of wine glasses crashing to the ground around him. He ignored them all, didn't hear any of them, he just wanted out.

He came to a set of double doors and pryed them open with brute strength, ignoring the control panel. He stormed into the corridor, his black cape whipping around him with a snap. He clenched his fists, tightened his jaw, a single tear trickling down his cheek. No, he wouldn't let Titus do this to him, not now.

With a primal shout, he slammed his fists against a metallic wall, sending a loud crash echoing across the hall. He didn't even feel the pain radiating through his shaking hands, didn't feel the blood trickling down his knuckles. His entire body shook with silent sobs, closing his eyes as he trested his head against the wall, trying his best to calm himself down.

"A-are you alright?"

Balem furrowed his brows upon hearing the voice, something so foreign that he couldn't decide whether it had been real or not. He opened his eyes, turning his head to the source of the concern, blinking away tears as he focused on a girl, the girl in the sparkling gown; the Silaverius girl.

There she was wedged onto a window ledge, legs propped up comfortably in front of her, bare and smooth. Her gown draped across her elegantly even as she at, pooling below her like a sea of stars. Her feet were now bare, her abandoned heels lying against the opposite wall. She looked rather comfortable lying there, back rested against the window, holding a book in her hand.

He was completely dumbfounded, more so surprised really, to see someone else here, away from the party. He didn't expect to run into anyone, and company was the last thing he desired at the moment. He didn't wish for anyone to see him in such a vulnerable and deplorable state.

Before Balem could stop himself, he found himself nodding, unable to find the words. He took a long, dark sleeve and wiped away his tears quickly, hoping the woman hadn't seen them. He looked away from her, avoided her eyes, ashamed he had behaved in such an unruly manner.

"Oh...you're hurt," the girl observed, causing Balem to look at his won bleeding knuckles, "it's alright...I don't bite, let me look at them."

Balem looked back up to her, narrowing his eyes at her proposal. He was hesitant to trust her, hesitant to approach. He watched as she placed her reading material into her lap, dropping her legs from the ledge as she sat up, patting the now free spot beside her.

Balem was mistrustful, to say the least. He stared at her for the longest time, looking back from his bleeding hands. He couldn't go back into the party looking like this if he did go back. Seeing as his options were limited, and he really saw no negative side to the situation, he strode over to her, quickly taking a seat beside her.

The woman offered him a small smile, one that seemed genuine to him, compared to all of the fake ones he had seen that night. He avoided her eyes as she looked at him, her eyes drifting down to his hands.

Hesitantly, she lifted her hands, placing them gently on his own as she turned them over, looking at the broken skin that still bled scarlet. Her touch was gentle, warm, comforting in some way. He watched her carefully, still untrusting of her actions, ready to spring at any second if she dare try anything.

"I'm Arvella," she finally spoke as she turned over his hands, "although you probably already know that..."

Balem hesitated, moving his eyes to her hands as she looked over the wounds. He was startled when he noticed a feature he had not noticed from afar, something he could not believe he hadn't caught on in the room. Upon her pale skin were very faint marking, swirls of lavender and light shades of blue that barely tinted her skin. There were only a few markings, and they seemed to shimmer in the light, a distinguishing pattern he had never seen before on someone's skin. He followed the pattern up her bare arms, across her shoulders, where they lightly trailed up her neck and faded onto her cheek. His eyes finally fell upon hers, being met with a striking shade of violet deep within them.

Her pale face was lined with dark crimson curls, her hair falling in tresses behind her back. The markings were on either side of her face as well, her forehead dotted with sparkling cobalt and amethyst jewels.

"Your markings..." He finally spoke, his voice a hushed whisper. it was the only thing he could think of saying as he became lost in those intricate designs.

He had never seen anything like her. She was so...unusual.


	6. Chapter 5

Lungs fit to burst, Arvella felt as if she were about to collapse. Nearly falling through the doors, she felt an instant sensation of relief as they shut behind her, the sounds of the party dissipating behind her. She stood there for a moment, simply breathing, taking in long breaths as she closed her eyes. It was over, she was never going back in there.

She felt her nerves begin to calm, felt her body start to relax. She didn't know why she had gotten so anxious, why everything had started to come down so quickly. There were too many people, too many expectant eyes leering at her, judging her. She wasn;t meant for this sort of thing, wasn't meant to be paraded around like a show pony. She was so much more than that- didn't they know?

She found the courage to take a couple steps forward only to find herself tripping and wobbling in her horrible heels. In an act of frustration, she was finally fed up and ripped them off of her feet and through them across the hall, hitting the wall with a bang.

That would do.

She smiled slightly, a bit of pride taking hold of her as she padded down the hall in her bare feet. She didn't need those over-the-top shoes, didn't need the extravagance of others, she just needed to be herself. She glanced around the hall, looking at the tall bay windows that lined them.

She walked slowly, methodically, taking her time as she stared out at the expanse of the universe, out at the billions of stars that lit up the sky. It was so extraordinary out there, so free.

So out of her reach.

She dropped her head to the ground once more, staring at her feet as she walked, feeling her gown trail the ground lazily behind her. It was a shame she couldn't do it more justice, couldn't show it off like it needed to be. It was such a lovely gown, and she could never wear it again.

She stopped and stared out the window once more, realizing that she really had nowhere else to go. She glanced around, just to be sure she truly was alone and quickly took a seat on the window's ledge. She swung her legs up, tucking them against her chest as she stared out into the vastness once more. It was ironic how her family had built a legacy on ship design and how she had traveled so little. There were so many more planets out there to explore, so many more people to meet. She felt as if she were already running out of time, there certainly weren't enough years to see everything.

A sigh escaped her throat as she looked away, remembering something she had managed to tuck away. She looked around once more, ever so cautiously, and from the top of her dress plucked a small, golden, rectangular disk. With a touch of her finger, it expanded into a large version of itself, unfolding quickly into her hands. With another swipe, a hologram appeared before her where a text began to stream before her eyes.

There was always time for a good book.

She grinned like a cat who had just stumbled upon a saucer of cream, beginning to hungrily devour the words before her. If it was one thing she could agree with doing, it was reading.

She had just gotten into it, lost in another world unlike her own, when suddenly a loud crash nearly made her stumble off of the ledge. The book shot out of her hands as if it had jumped itself, landing on her lap.

Nearly a second later, a horrible, heart-wrenching scream followed, echoing down the corridor.

Arvella was certain she had just been a witness to a terrible crime.

She bit her lip, terrified to even look down the corridor, petrified to see the source of the terrible sounds. Someone had been killed, she just knew it, there was a reason she didn't enjoy going to parties.

It took every ounce of her courage to peek out behind her ledge, picking up her book and clutching it close to her chest. She treated it as if it were a shield, something to protect her in case they came for her next.

What she saw following, however, was something she had not expected to see.

He was draped in shadows, clothed in dark secrets that billowed onto the floor. His head and fists laid against the wall, body quivering in defeat. At first, she thought he was angry, about to smash a whole straight through the titanium walls.

Then, she listened.

Quiet sobs filled the hall, a sound so sincere it nearly made her heart ache. This man, whoever he was, was in pain.

"A-are you alright?" She asked nervously, tapping her fingers against the book.

She froze as the man grew quiet, straightened out as he turned his head to face her. He was crying, she could tell that much, as his pale, freckled cheeks were wet with tears. The faint starlight coming through the windows almost gave his skin a luminescent look, as if he were so delicate, so fragile.

He quickly nodded, making a quick notion to wipe his eyes on long, black sleeves. Arvella watched as a few drops of blood fell to the floor, following them up she found that his hands had been bloodied. Putting two and two together, she found that must have been the source of the banging she had heard.

"Oh...you're hurt," Arvella piped up, gesturing to his knuckles. She bit her lip, looking at the ledge she had perched on, and decided that she needed to do the right thing, or at least try to.

She slid her legs off of the ledge, placing her book in her lap as she patted the spot beside her. The man looked at her as if she had gone absolutely insane, and she was starting to regret this already.

"It's alright...I don't bite," she insisted with a small smile, patting the spot once more, "let me look at them."

Perhaps she was being too forward, too friendly, but she couldn't just let him stand there and bleed like that. She knew if she were in his shoes, she'd want someone to help her, especially if they had a party to go back to.

The man looked at his hands, and back to her, Arvella could tell he was seriously thinking this over. Although she didn't blame him, after all, she was nearly a complete stranger. She couldn't say she would do the same if someone offered her help, especially if it were he who was offering it. He was strange, frightening in some way, but completely innocent in another.

Arvella was certainly surprised when he came billowing over rather quickly, came behind him like a torrent of smoke. The way he moved was so quiet, so powerful as if he held some sort of higher power to him. He quickly took a seat beside her, refusing to look at her in every which way. Arvella frowned, glancing down at his bleeding hands.

With a slight tremble, she reached out and gently took his hands in hers, nearly jumping back upon feeling the coolness of their touch. She caught him glancing up at her and offered him a reassuring smile, one that hopefully came across that she wasn't about to slice his throat.

She carefully turned them over in her hands, her breathing light as she observed the cuts and scrapes on them. He hadn't hit that wall lightly and it had done a small number on his delicate hands.

The silence between them was certainly unnerving, and Arvella thought it might be best to put some of her common courtesy to use for a change.

"I'm Arvella," she introduced, suddenly feeling stupid that she had said such a thing. They had already announced her and her brother's name upon entering the room, of course he knew her name.

"Although you probably already know that..."

She expected him to introduce himself next, but what came next was entirely unexpected. She furrowed her brows, confused, glancing over at him as she watched his eyes trail up her arm to her face.

At that moment, everything stopped.

There she was, staring into his emerald eyes, an unexpecting yet brilliant color. Everything about him was so dark, so black and white, and yet his eyes were entirely-

"Your markings..." The man finally whispered in a clear, ghostly voice, clearly enraptured in what was her skin.

Arvella couldn't help but laugh suddenly, her lips parting as she smiled widely. She could tell this threw the man off guard, causing him to lean back with slight confusion, a brow raised.

"Oh, these," she smiled, glancing down at her arms as she still held his hands, "I was born with them, don't worry."

She glanced back up at him, half-expecting the confusion to go away, but, it still remained.

"But aren't you..."

"Terran?" Arvella finished, knowing exactly where he was getting at now. She had never had to explain this to anyone before, but she had a feeling that time would come soon enough.

"I'm from a planet called Cenus," she began to explain, turning her focus back to his injured hands, "our planet was once a part of a very advanced empire, one known as Ulthoria."

She glanced around for something to wrap his hand as she spoke, biting her lip as she thought. Finding that there wasn't anything available, she lifted up the hem of her dress.

"The Ulthorians were a species known for having iridescent skin of various hues," she explained, tearing off a piece of her gown, "when Terrans inhabited what is now Cenus, our species interbred, creating the new strand you now see today."

With that, she began to wrap up each hand, careful not to cause him more harm. She glanced up at him, finding that he was watching her carefully, his face a bit stricken as he looked upon the beautiful glittering fabric now encasing his hands.

"Which is why my skin is a mixture of the two," Arvella smiled as she finished off her final wrap, releasing his hands from hers, "it's really not that interesting, it's sort of like your freckles in a way."

The man looked pretty confused once more, but the understanding began to show in his eyes. He lifted a hand, turning it over to review her handiwork, hopefully, he was pleased enough.

"I think you owe me a name now," she teased with a small shrug, "I don't just do this sort of thing for free."

"Balem," he answered, glancing up from his hands as he cracked the tiniest of smiles, "Balem Abrasax."

"Abrasax?" She replied almost instantly, disbelief filling her voice once more. She couldn't believe she had been faced with yet another one; what were the chances? She studied his face, her smile vanishing. She tilted her head, examining every feature, every line. He did somewhat resemble the man she had just danced with, Titus, yet she saw the same distinguishing eyes of the woman she had met before. Her same hair, her same eyes.

It couldn't be.

"Yes?" Balem inquired, his face now reading simple confusion. His smile that had appeared only briefly was now gone, leaving his lush lips slightly parted.

Arvella shook her head, leaning away as she placed a hand to her head. She was doing it again, wasn't she?

"Oh, sorry," she apologized, lowering her hand as she dodged a headache, "it's just, I keep hearing that name over and over again tonight. It's like I can't escape it."

A chill ran down her spine as Balem released a breathy laugh, catching sight of his unnaturally white teeth.

"I saw you had indeed escaped my brother," he mentioned, glancing over at the double doors, "I do not believe he was impressed in the slightest."

It was Arvella's turn to laugh as she looked away sheepishly, moving a hand to mess with a lock of her hair. She hadn't been embarrassed at the time, but now that she had thought about it, she must have looked like a complete fool. She felt her cheeks turning hot as she avoided Balem's stare, looking instead out of the window beside her.

"Oh, so Titus is your brother," she mused, smiling faintly, "I'll have to remember to send him an apology for cutting our dance so short...I just, it was all too much for me."

She frowned and let out a sigh, shutting her eyes as she thought about the room, the crowd, the noise. It was too much for her senses, too much for her delicate mind to handle. She was overwhelmed, unprepared for such an event, for all of the whispers and voices that rattled in her head.

"Do not bother yourself with such trivial matters," Balem instructed with a curt nod, "this was not the first time my brother's advances have been abnegated. He deserves this every once in awhile, it keeps him grounded."

Arvella turned her back to Balem, her subtle smile returning. Clearly there was something going on between the two of them and whatever it was it didn't sound very loving. She glanced over his face once more, getting the feeling of utter contempt coming from him. his jaw had tightened, eyes flaring for a moment, and then his features softened, relaxed.

There was certainly some tension.

"I also met your sister," Arvella added, hoping his relationship with her wasn't as terrible as the one he held with Titus.

"Kalique?" Balem responded, his eyes fleeting with a slight interest.

Arvella raised a brow, clearly baffled.

"No...Seraphi," she replied, the uncertainty wavering in her voice. It was then she knew she was sorely mistaken, and that Serpahi was not all that she appeared to be.

She watched as Balem's jaw clenched upon hearing her name, looking away uneasily from Arvella. He laced his fingers together in his lap, staring at the floor for the longest time, the silence nearly deafening her.

"Seraphi is my mother," he finally admitted, a certain contempt to his voice.

Arvella couldn't say she was completely shocked, as she had foreseen this somehow. When she had mentioned her children, she had thought the to be much younger, nothing around her age. It started to make sense though, except for the fact that his mother was completely and entirely flawless, unaged, unlike her own mother.

"I'm sorry,' she apologized quickly, holding her hands up in defense, "I was mistaken, it's just that she looks so-"

"Young?" Balem interrupted abruptly, turning his head slowly so his emerald eyes met Arvella's.

There was a sadness in his tone, one that echoed the loneliness that read in his eyes. Something was the matter, something was bothering him deeply, and yet he would not utter the words.

She nodded her head plainly in reply, finding herself becoming lost in reading his gaze. She wanted to find out what was troubling this man, what could have been the secret meddled deeply into his voice. So many whispers under his skin, so many truths that had not been spoken.

He parted his lips to speak once more, but was interrupted when the sound of automatic doors hissed open.

Simultaneously, the two of the peeked around the window, Balem looking over his shoulder as Arvella craned her neck to see who it was. She felt her heart begin to race in her chest, hoping it was not someone coming to drag her back to that horrible place.

The figure that approached the moved gracefully like a ghost, making no sound as she glided on the reflective floors. Her elegant white dress trailed behind her, black designs woven intricately in the fabric.

She was beautiful.

Arvella stared at her, breathless, watching Seraphi as she smiled effortlessly at the two, pausing before them.

"I was starting to wonder what happened to the both of you," she smiled grandly, "Titus had told me you both took off."

Arvella bit her lip nervously, unsure of what the consequence would be for leaving one's own party. She wasn't sure how this woman would act, especially since Arvella had been caught with her son. It wasn't like they were doing anything unacceptable, she was only merely trying to help him.

"I-" Balem started, before Arvella leaned forward and chimed in.

"I wasn't feeling well," she blurted out, looking to Balem quickly before looking to Seraphi, "I needed to get some air, Balem wanted to make sure I was alright."

Seraphi raised her brows with interest, her smile spreading knowingly. She eyed the two of them with dancing jeweled eyes, looking from Arvella to her son's own hands.

Arvella gulped, glancing down at his haphazardly bandaged hands, a sudden feeling of dread overcoming her. Now her story seemed completely null, and surely Seraphi would be angered. She braced herself, ready to be called out on her lie, until-

"Oh, I see," Seraphi breathed, a wide grin on her lips, "I was never a fan of parties when I was your age. They can become a bit...overwhelming."

Arvella breathed a silent sigh of relief as she nodded, glad that Seraphi understood. Arvella was a bit surprised that she had not mentioned Balem's injury, but she would take what she could get. There was something about this woman that was comforting, motherly, something that made her instantly calm an already tension-inducing room.

"Now, I am not going to expect you to return," she continued, neatly folding her hands in front of her, "but I do believe it is considered bad etiquette to not attend one's own birthday celebration."

Balem flicked his head from his mother back to Arvella, giving her a bewildered look. Arvella shrugged slightly, as she had failed to mention it had in fact been her birthday.

Seraphi breathed a short laugh in response from her son's reaction, placing a hand neatly to cover her mouth.

"So humble," she commented, smiling to Arvella, "as to not mention the reason why we have all gathered."

She felt her cheeks growing bright red once more, feeling Balem's stare heatedly on her face. She didn't like the attention, didn't like the fact that they were now so interested in her. For a moment, she wished she had not aided Balem, and yet another part of her didn't regret it at all.

Balem looked away from her quickly, rising to his feet and stepped to his mother's side. Such an action made Arvella feel as if she had frightened him away, wondering what she had done. She stood up next, letting her dress fall to the floor, the two tears in it barely noticeable, but the hen had come up just slightly.

Seraphi eyed her dress, looking up until she came across her face once more. "Don't worry, dear," she reassured her, "it's barely noticeable."

Arvella nearly wanted to crouch down and disappear completely, but she held herself highly, at least tried to as Balem and Seraphi did themselves.

She smiled lightly, glancing back over to Balem who appeared to be sheepishly avoiding her gaze, but eventually met her glance once more, holding it for a few moments.

He offered her a fleeting smile, one that she would have missed if she had blinked, but she caught it and exchanged one in return. A wave of relief came over her, the thought that he wasn't angered brought her a bit of joy, one that she could not place. Why it mattered to her, she did not know, but that feeling stuck with her.

"I would recommend putting your shoes back on as well," Seraphi chuckled, "I wouldn't want you drawing any unwanted attention."

Arvella had nearly forgotten about those dreaded shoes and quickly strode to fetch them, holding them loosely in her grasp.

"Th-thank-you," she was finally able to utter, a bright smile crossing her face, "I will be back shortly, do not worry."

With that, she watched as Seraphi turned to leave, back to the doors that had separated them from the madness. Balem waited a few moments, looking once more over Arvella, his gaze softening to those of gratitude.

When he turned to leave, it did not leave Arvella with that emptiness she had once known, did not leave her with a sense of loss. For some reason, she had a feeling this would not be the last time she would come face-to-face with Balem, the secretive heir to the Abrasax dynasty.

And she was right.

As Balem entered the room full of boisterous guests, he glanced down at his wounded hands. He turned them over, admiring the shimmering material that had been tied so carefully, at the swirling galaxies that now held his shattered skin. She had kept him together, had shielded him from his physical wounds; she had damaged her beautiful gown.

He was puzzled, unsure of why someone would do such a thing, especially for someone they had never met before. A random act of kindness, this idea was foreign to him. He debated this for quite some time, getting lost in the sea of swirls, the sparkling stars now held in his hands.

With a soft smile, he closed his hands, keeping the material close to himself. He had secretly hoped that this would not be the last thing he would see from her, would not be the last action to remind her by.

And he was right.


	7. Chapter 6

Poised, proper, eloquent. Back straight, heels together, hands neatly clasped before her. Chin up, eyes forward, smile. She repeated those phrases in her head over and over again, trying desperately to remember what she had been taught. Smile wider? No. Too eager. She fidgeted with her hands, starting to grow nervous with every passing second. No, no fidgeting.

She stopped herself, tightly lacing her fingers within themselves, glancing over to see her brother standing beside her. He was so well-disciplined, so stiff, his face pleasant yet so serious. He was calm, collected, acted as if had done this a thousand times before and that this was just another day to him.

Arvella was envious.

She looked away, trying to throw all of those doubts out of her head, all of the thoughts that told her she wasn't good enough, wasn't as flawless as her brother. She couldn't let all those years of lessons go to waste, she had been trained for a reason.

She was an heir.

She felt herself straighten up better, felt a jolt of confidence as she held herself in higher regard. She was poised, proper, eloquent, just like her brother and parents before her.

She was a Silaverius.

Her eyes flickered over to her parents in front of her, both mirroring how her and her brother stood slightly behind them. They had done this many times before, and now it was her turn to continue on tradition. She admired how still they were, like statues, how beautiful they looked under the beams of sunlight that poured through the skylights. Stunning, their own markings shimmered on iridescent skin. As she admired their brilliance, getting lost in their elegance, she caught a sudden movement in the corner of her eye.

They approached them from the arched entrance, four shadows against a bright background. They strode confidently, dauntingly, and Arvella felt her breath hitch in her throat. She wanted so desperately to look away, but something trapped her gaze to them, something wouldn't let her go.

Arvella eyed the group carefully, watching as they all paused before her family. Her gaze drifted over the others, pausing when she reached the tallest of them. Balem hadn't changed at all over the years, perhaps he had gotten a bit taller. He appeared calm, collected, palms neatly pressed together before him, a black cloak lined with a silvery blue stretched around him. His ebony suit was lined with metallic beads, a deep v revealing part of his toned chest.

She caught herself staring, and moved on to his other siblings, coming next to someone she had hoped not to see. Titus. He wore a deep orchid suit, a black scarf wrapped around his neck, a smug smirk crossed upon his face as he caught her stare. She quickly looked away, moving her eyes to a woman she had never seen.

Arvella could only guess this was Kalique, the only sister of the Abrasaxes. She was certainly beautiful, young, a bright look about her face as she stood there beaming, a beacon of light compared to her siblings. Her dress was a vibrant shade of coral, accents of peach along billowing sleeves. Arvella felt her stomach churn as the sister looked at her expectantly, as if she had already known her for a long time.

"Lady Abrasax," the crimson-haired man spoke, bowing slightly, "it is a pleasure to see you once more."

The familiar woman with dark hair smiled lightly at her father, her deep eyes lingering on him for a moment. Arvella couldn't decipher the meaning behind them, the way they seemed to change with every passing second. Was it a certain recognition? A threat?

"I bid you the same, Lord Silaverius," Seraphi replied coolly, bowing her head slowly, "I trust we should begin soon, should we not? The day is still young, and I fear we may be in conference for quite some time."

"Of course, of course," Lady Silaverius chimed in, glancing hurriedly to her husband before looking back to Seraphi, "I only assumed you might require some rest after your long journey to our humble home."

"Oh, that is not necessary," Seraphi assured with a wave of her hand, "we have had plenty of time to rest on our way here, I do not wish to delay things any further." A smile wavered on her thick lips, eyes unmoving as she caught Arvella's stare in her own.

Arvella immediately looked away, instead focusing blankly before her, not wishing to meet the matriarch's gaze once more. It was something about them that made her especially uneasy today, something that was hidden behind them that she could not decipher. So full of secrets, so full of deep intentions.

"Very well," Lord Silaverius nodded, looking over to his wife, "we will begin our conference without farther interruption."

With that her parents turned to leave, her father sharing a single flitting look with her own brother. Her brother seemed to understand, giving them both a curt nod as they went away, Seraphi followed behind, not bothering to give any of her children a look before disappearing down the corridor.

So there they were. Arvella felt her stomach turn to knots as Batair and her faced the three siblings before them. A certain took hold in the room, silence echoed across the hall. Arvella turned her head to steal a glance at her brother, catching his own glance as he looked to her. She was hoping to find a bit of advice in him, how to go about this more than uncomfortable situation they had been tossed into. However, it appeared her brother had no ideas as well, thus only developed the tension.

It wasn't them who made the first move, rather, the very man in orchid garments, who took a few steps toward the silent siblings. He folded his hands behind his back, a subtly grin etched across his face. He paused before the two, giving Batair a quick nod before looking back to Arvella.

"An honor to be in the company of the Silaverius' once more," he greeted smoothly, his hazel eyes glistening with deep interest.

Batair stood straight, eyeing Titus suspiciously, his own sunburst eyes bright and fiery. He looked as if he were ready to lunge at him if he were to make any sudden movements, a tiger crouched in wait.

Arvella looked away from her brother, looking back to Titus as she found her eyes trapped within his own magnetized stare. She didn't know what to say, didn't know how to acknowledge someone she'd rather not converse with. There was something about him, something that was completely off, something that wasn't natural. It was as if every smile, every stare, as if it were well-rehearsed and faked. There was something behind his eyes, just like his mother, some sort of secret he was holding back.

"Likewise," Batair answered for the two of them, stealing Titus' stare away from Arvella.

The two locked eyes for what seemed like a century, both unmoving, both unwilling to back down. Finally, Titus broke the glare, turning his attention back on the nervous woman.

"And you look as lovely as ever," he smiled to her, making a show of looking her over, "as you can tell, I've gone out of my way to be sure I matched your brilliant eyes."

Arvella felt her cheeks grow hot, quickly looking away from Titus' stare. His compliments should have made her feel flattered, but for some reason she just grew more and more uncomfortable as he spoke. His stare was hungry, longing, as if he had been starved for a decade, waiting to get his fill.

"That seems a little obsessive," Arvella blurted out, not even thinking out a response before she answered, "and I'm afraid I have made no such attempt to mimic yours...sorry."

She offered Titus a short grin, watching as his face hardened, his smile vanished. Although a slight fear filled her as she watched his anger swell, a confidence began to take hold within her.

She heard her own brother stifle back a laugh, a sound she had not heard in ages. Titus flicked his head to face him, but Batair had quickly covered a Cheshire-like grin, his face returning to his statue-like stillness once more.

Titus averted a cold stare back to Arvella, causing a chill to shoot up her spin, creeping across her shoulders. It was a stare she had never wished to witness again, one filled with so much hatred she could nearly bottle it. He opened his mouth to speak, a snarl forming across his lips, until a billowing figure of coral rushed between them.

"Oh well, look at this," Kalique chimed as she clutched Arvella's hands suddenly, "I've heard so much about you, we should talk for awhile."

Arvella was certainly shell-shocked by Kalique's own forwardness, her apparent kindness overwhelming. Her wide smile stretched cross her glowing face, chestnut eyes bright and glistening. She was certainly a bright beacon of a woman, so eager and full of life.

Arvella opened her mouth to speak, but before she could form the words Kalique had whisked her away, pulling her off with one hand.

Arvella found herself being dragged outside into the courtyard, where blossoming dahlias and swaying magnolia trees filled the senses, created an air of true peace. It was one of Arvella's favorite places, one where she spent most of her time reading under a bright magenta sky.

Kalique led her over to a bench, where she took a seat and motioned for Arvella to sit beside her. Arvella obeyed, cautiously taking a seat beside her, hoping that this sibling was much more pleasant than her younger brother.

"So sorry for the abruptness of the situation," Kalique apologized with a breathy sigh, "I just think my brothers can get a bit...overwhleming At times. We needed a little girl time."

Kalique winked with a short laugh, her own giddiness contagious as Arvella found herself laughing under her breath. For some reason or another, Kalique had a point. Arvella had friends, yes, but most of the time they were just doting on her, wanting her closeness because of her status. It was a faked friendship, but she supposed it was still as such.

"I think you're right," Arvella agreed with her, looking away from her gaze, "I'm afraid things were getting a little...heated."

"Titus can be a bit aggressive," she admitted easily with a small laugh, "he just doesn't know when to stop sometimes."

Kalique paused, seemingly lost in her own thoughts for a moment, before she perked up and looked to Arvella once more.

"I'm Kalique, by the way. I should have mentioned that first, shouldn't I?"

She giggled that infectious sound once more and Arvella couldn't help but smile herself. There was something about Kalique she liked, a certain realness to the way she acted. She was so bright, so proper, and yet there was a girlish tendency to her. She wasn't at all serious like her brothers or her mother. She didn't have to fake a smile, or a laugh, it was all so effortless, so free.

"Arvella," she introduced with a nod of her head, feeling the tension begin to dissipate, "it is very nice to meet you."

"You as well," Kalique grinned even wider, "like I've said, I've heard so much about you from my brothers. If you haven't noticed, Titus fancies you quite a bit."

Arvella was a little taken back by Kalique's words, not expecting the sudden influx from the words. Of course, Arvella had a feeling he had a little bit more on his mind than being simply just acquaintances, but she hadn't really thought about being more.

"I hope you do not take any offence," Arvella began, placing her hands before her defensively, "but I'm afraid I do not feel the same about Titus...I Just do not know him well-enough."

Arvella braced herself for a sudden onslaught from Kalique, prepared to hear the unthinkable. She knew if someone had spoke ill of Batair she wouldn't be pleased at all, so she only expected the same from Kalique. However, what came next was entirely unexpected.

"So you like Balem then," Kalique beamed excitedly, edging closer to Arvella. Her response wasn't even a question, it was as if she had already known her response, had already deduced it from before.

Arvella's smile vanished, looking away from her quickly as she felt her cheeks go pink. No, she hadn't expected those words at all, was immediately caught off-guard by them. Balem? How had he gotten mixed up into this conversation? She didn't know what to say, sure, Balem was much more easy to get along with than his brother, so much easier to talk with. He didn't say a lot, but there wasn't really any reason to. She understood him, in a way.

"Well, I mean...er," She stammered, biting at her lips nervously as she searched for the words, "I'll admit I think we get along better than I do with Titus, but I still do not know him well-enough to make assumptions." She glanced over to Kalique once more, half-expecting her to look a bit disappointed. However, her cat-like grin stayed, eyes twinkling with the information.

"Your lips may say one thing," she pointed out, poking a finger at Arvella, "but your cheeks say everything you don't want to." She laughed slightly, offering her a warm smile before taking Arvella's hand in her, placing it on her lap a she led it with both of hers.

"Balem is so misunderstood," Kalique assured her as her face turned a bit more serious, "he's so intelligent, so quiet. I think he needs a bit more excitement in his life, he needs to get out more. He needs someone like you."

Arvella stared at Kalique for a few moments, taking in her words slowly. Her expression softened, realized the amount of desperate begging that Kalique held in her gaze. Was she trying to be her matchmaker? This all seemed so wrong to Arvella, seemed so completely foolish.

To Kalique's surprise Arvella quickly withdrew her hands, shaking her head with a nervous laugh.

"Oh, no, no, no, no," she repeated over and over again, "I think you've got the wrong idea. I'm not interested in marrying anyone anytime soon...it's Just not me."

Kalique burst out in a fit of laughter all of a sudden, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

"Oh I'm not asking you to marry him," she roared, slapping her hands down on her lap, "I was just wondering if you could take him out for a bit, make him have a little fun for a change."

Arvella leaned away, taken back from her sudden fit of whoops and chortles.

"Fun?" She questioned, clearly puzzle from the sudden proposition.

"Yes, yes, fun," Kalique repeated with a smile, "you know, it is customary for one diplomat to show anothers own countryside. You, my dear, have such a lovely piece of paradise here, I think Balem would appreciate seeing it from another's own perspective."

Kalique offered Arvella another small smile before she pattered her hand, standing up from the bench. Her swaying gown fell beautifully around her as she walked back inside, turning her head back to look at Arvella once more.

"Besides," she added with a wink, "I wish for that handsome brother of yours to give myself and Titus a tour of the palace grounds." With a short giggle Kalique strode away, leaving Arvella to her thoughts upon the bench.

Arvella couldn't help but laugh slightly as Kalique hurried off, shaking her head as she thought over her words. A tour? She crossed one leg over the other as she thought this over, tapping a finger to her chin in thought. An idea came to her mind, sure, it was a bit far-fetched but she was certain it might work.

Perhaps she did need a day away from the politics that plagued her home, perhaps it would be a welcome change.


	8. Chapter 7

She was the first thing he had picked out in the room. Poised, elegant, a flowing aubergine dress delicately flowing at her feet. The material started with intricate designs of branches, creeping over her shoulders and down her arms. The designs faded when they reached her legs, trailing off into a sheer lace. It was so simple, yet so elegant in the way she held herself.

His eyes trailed up to hers, admiring the way she wore her garnet curls. The up-do had been braided, her hair trailing down her back, over one shoulder, the braid loose and decorated with small, clear stones. He studied her face momentarily, finding that she appeared slightly different than the last time he had seen her. Was it the way she stood, the way her face appeared more collected? Certainly something had changed, he just couldn't decide what.

His thoughts were jolted when Titus stepped forward before her, causing his entire body to tighten. He knew exactly what Titus' edge was, why he did what he did, but it didn't bother him any less. Perhaps the most intriguing art of the exchange was waiting for her reaction, waiting to see if her less-than-impressed brother would rip Titus' throat out. As much as Balem wished to step in, he stood back and watched as his skin began to bristle.

He was a bit shocked when Arvella had snapped back with such elegance, spoke in such a way that didn't sound as if she were insulting at all. Clearly, Titus took offense to this, as any other heir would, and before he could get his word in, Kalique decided to interrupt.

Balem frowned, he was slightly looking forward to the exchange, to see his brother getting potentially torn apart by Arvella. On the other hand, he was relieved, as this had meant that Titus' advanced had been cut short once more.

He watched suspiciously as Kalique dragged her off, watching as the two both disappeared out into the light. He held his position, watching as Titus, backed away with a stomp, turning to glance at Arvella's elder brother. The tension between the two could have been cut with a knife, the cold stare they shared. Palms pressed together neatly, unmoving, he watched silently, expectantly.

"Well she's rather thick, isn't she?" Titus huffed with a grand roll of his eyes.

Balem raised a brow as he watched him, the corner of his mouth rising just slightly at his discontempt. What came next, however, was even more amusing.

"Arvella is clearly very intelligent," her brother interrupted, casting a downward gaze at Titus, "her taste in suitors is impeccably well-suited."

Titus' nostrils flared, eyes a torrent of blazing rage. It was one thing for him to be shrugged off by a woman, it was another for his own being to be inexplicably challenged. He turned stiffly to Batair, Balem watching as his brother struggled to keep his rage beneath his skin, to keep him from going berserk.

"Perhaps she simply hasn't a sense of who is 'well-suited' to her," Titus lashed back furiously. He resembled a hostile reptile in a way,n the way he turned so quickly, the way his jaws snapped when he spoke. His vicious eyes glowered at Batair, eyes meant to slay anything in its path, but he had attacked the wrong beast.

The fuming blond brother would have been on him in an instant if it hadn't been for the impeccable timing of Kalique. She blew in like an unpleasantly warm breeze, arms trailing behind her lazily. Her entrance caused the blazing Batair to back down, eyes unwavering on Titus as he stepped back. Balem had to admire his control, his poise, and position. It took a lot not to lash out at his self-engorged brother, even something Balem could not contain at most times.

"Oh!" Kalique burst as she sauntered in front of the feuding men, "I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?" She placed a porcelain hand in front of her mouth, hiding a shady smile as if she had alrerady known what she had stumbled upon.

"Oh, no, not at all," Batair quickly blurted out, folding his arms as he looked away from the group, clearly embarrassed, "just discussing...business, that is all."

Kalique raised a brow to him, clearly unconvinced as she grinned to course, Kalique was rather thick at times, but she was no stranger to frequent feuding.

"Well nevermind that," Kalique purred, glading over to Batair. She wrapped her arms around one of his own, looking up to startled man with a gushing grin.

"it is customary to give a tour of one's country," she reminded him with twinkling eyes, "it is only polite."

She glanced over to Titus, giving him a certain look, as if saying that if he did not follow he would never hear the end of it. Titus rolled his eyes with an obnoxious sigh, stepping beside Kalique and her unwilling host.

"R-right," Batair stuttered, his flawless facade failing as Kalique clutched to him tightly. His entire face was beet red, Balem thought he might had been used to all of the unwilling attention brought upon such a stunning, budding Entitled.

"Follow me," he finally nodded, trying to recover his composure as he led them off.

Balem decided it would be best to follow, and began to apporach them with a couple brooding steps, hands clasped tightly together, eyes forward.

Kalique glanced over his way, eyes widening as a hand flew up to her hair.

"Oh! Oh dear," she gasped dramatically, quickly looking to the ground as she swirled searching for something unseen, "my lapis lazuli broach, it's gone!"

Balem paused in his steps, narrowing his eyes at Kalique's actions. As he had reclaled, she did in fact wear a rather expensive brooch in her hair, and it was, in fact, their mother's. If Kalique had lost such an expensive and sentimental peice of jewlwery, mother was going to be livid. Kalique looked up from the floor, catching Balem's own concerned stare.

"Balem, I may have dropped it whilst I was in the courtyard," she claimed, jutting out a pouted lip, "could you please go and see if you can find it?"

Balem could nearly strangle her in this instant, for proposing such an idiotic task for him to complete. He was the eldest, the primary heir, not his sister's personal caddy. Then again, if Kalique was unable to find the broach, they were sure to all hear their mother's wrath. That was something none of them wanted, and, unfortunately, it looked as if he had to find it.

"Very well," he answered coolly, giving her a sideways glance as he headed out into the courtyard.

"Thank-you!" She called after him, "we'll get started without you, just catch up if you wish!"

Balem rolled his eyes, not bothering to look back over his shoulder to see his siblings disappear with the Silaverius. he had no desire to go on any sort of sight-seeing tour, as those things were so drab. The last thing he wanted to do was spend the rest of the day with his annoying siblings, listening to them bicker the entire day with them getting on his last nerves.

He stepped outside through an arched corridor, light beaming down in rivers through thick canopies. He squinted, such unprecedented brightness overloading his senses. He brought up his arm, a feeble attempt to block out the light, taking long strides as he descended further into the garden. His head was suddenly filled with the sweet aroma of magnolias and orchids, scents he had not smelled in what felt like ages. he didn't prefer the outdoors by far, he was more used to the metallic walls of ships and citadels, everything that wasn't natural by default.

As his vision adjusted, he dropped his arm gradually, letting his eyes adjust to his surroundings. As everything began to come into focus, a jolt of crimson caught his sight.

He stopped abruptly in his tracks when he saw her, so perfectly seated on a marble bench, looking off into the garden of flora. Her hands were neatly folded in her lap as she gazed distantly off, lustrous skin glimmering in the traces of sunlight. The sight of her stunned him as if he had seen her for the first time.

As if she had heard him, her eyes flickered to him, widening with what he hoped wasn't fear at his appearance. He had a reputation of being rather intimidating, one that he had never really let bother him, until now.

"Oh, hello," she greeted after a moment, a short smile crossing her lips.

Balem had to admit, he was slightly surprised at her action, having guessed an awkward silence to follow. Where he would usually feel nervous, a wave of calm came over him as he stared at her, at first entirely lost for words.

"Kalique has lost her broach," he blurted out suddenly, remembering why he was originally out here, "have you seen it?"

"Sorry...no," she frowned, shaking her head. She moved her hand from her lap, placing it on the bench beside her as she adjusted herself, yet suddenly withdrew with a jolt.

Balem raised a brow, glancing to where her hand had retreated, and saw something sparkle on the bench. Arvella looked rather confused as she looked at the object, plucking it off her seat carefully. She looked over it ever so delicately, eyes wandering over the intricate piece. It was certainly beautiful, the blue stone covering it shimmering in her hand. It was shaped like a dragonfly, the wings dotted with other priveless gems, accented with stunning silver. It was one of her mother's most prized possessions, and kalique had nearly lost it.

"Is this it, then?" Arvella laughed suddenly, outstretching her arm and offering it to him, "it is very beautiful, I'd hate for her to lose it."

Balem nodded, closing the distance between them as he carefully took it from her, looking it over in his own hand.

"It's our mother's," he answered stoically, placing it in the pocket of his robe, "it is very dear to her."

Arvella nodded with a certain understanding, her eyes shifting from his pocket to his own gaze. Deciding that it was best he went back, he reluctantly began to turn away, feeling that bit of awkwardness returning in the air. He was uncomfortable, but in the best way he could understand it, but still, he felt as if he had to go.

"Wait!"

He froze in his tracks as her piercing voice shattered the air around him, a force unseen to him somehow drawing him back. Nervously, he glanced over his shoulder, wondering what she could possibly want with him now, why she would want anything to do with him.

Like a painted vision, she rose, gown elegantly falling around her, a thin finger reaching up to place a loose scarelt strand behind her ear. She looked sheepishly off towards the ground as if she feared what she was about to say.

"It is customary for one to give a brief tour of their own world," she explained, her gaze finally drifting back to his, "and if you do not mind, I would very much like it if I were to show you mine."

Balem could not measure how long he stared at her so blankly, how still he was when her words left her lips. He must have looked like a fool, lips barely parted, eyes widened with a sudden interest, his body frozen in place. He thought over her proposition carefully, his mind briefly flickering back to his siblings, who were more than likely far gone now. Surely, it would be the best move on his part, to accept her offer, as it would be a good opportunity for business, as his mother would typically put it. At worst, she would simply show him around her palace, perhaps more of the extensive gardens surrounding it, something he could bare for an hour or so.

"So...is that a yes?" Arvella suddenly grinned, a short giggle escaping her throat.

That sound alone broke him of his thoughts, and he stared back at Arvella, at first entirely lost for words.

"That would be most gracious," he finally replied with a slow nod of his head. He pivoted back around to face her, ready for her to take the lead.

Arvella's grin only grew wider in response, her violet eyes dancing with a certain mischief, one that he thought he should be worried about. She took a few steps towards him, reaching out and gently taking his own hand in hers. He felt the heat rise in his cheeks as her warm skin touched his own, light fingers wrapping around his own. Finding whatever courage he could muster, his eyes drifted from their hands to her face once more, and the brightest smile he had ever seen.

"Come on," she beamed, "I want to show you everything."


	9. Chapter 8

Arvella's heart was nearly bursting through her chest with utter anticipation as she led Balem through the gardens. She didn't dare look behind her, afraid of his reaction. This was very unlike her to all of a sudden take off with someone she had barely known, let alone it just be the two of them. It was a bold action nonetheless, but she was quickly growing bored of what was expected of her.

She was grinning ear-to-ear when they finally passed beneath an ivy-covered arch, the stone crumbling and cracking in places with age. She couldn't even count the number of times she had passed beneath it, her only portal between the glass palace walls and the untamed wilderness that fell outside. Her father had teased her that she was just like him- a natural affinity to anything and all things wild. Her mother, on the other hand, didn't appreciate that sense of her as much, and tried to keep her under her wing as much as she could.

"Wait," Balem interrupted in a huff, "I thought you were going to show me your manor?"

There was clear confusion in his voice as he struggled to keep up with her, his voice rather out of breath already. It was clear he wasn't used to running like this, or in the very least a quick walk. Arvella couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"All manors look the same," she explained, glancing over her shoulder at him, "they all have windows, walls, and doorways."

She could have swore she heard him stifle a quick laugh behind her, or it could have been one of annoyance, she didn't want to know what it was.

"Besides," she added, stopping just ahead when a separate building made of white stone came into view, "I think you need to get out more."

They soon reached the building, Arvella releasing Balem's arm as she walked ahead through two great wooden doors, leaving Balem hunched over, trying so desperatly to catch his breath. As soon as he began to regain himself, he glanced up ahead of him, scrunching his face in disapproval as Arvella left him.

"And where exactly have you taken me?" He shouted after her, beyond curious to find out what she was up to. He let out an aggrivated growl when she didn't respond to him, straightening up as he brushed off his sleeves. He was already annoyed with the fact that every sort of dirt particle began to cling to his clothing outdoors, and the hot sun was starting to make him overheat in the black he wore. he was certainly unprepared, and he hated that.

He quickly looked up and barely believed his eyes when he saw what was next. There, proudly perched, was Arvella atop of a snowy-white mare, one with a slightly greying muzzle. What even surprised his more was what she led out behind her with her free arm, a horse with the deepest black coat he had ever seen.

Arvella's face was plastered with a mere smirk as she trotted over to Balem, stopping a few feet from him as he stared in a mixture of shock and awe. After a few moments, Arvella couldn't help but laugh.

"Well, are you just going to stare or get on?"

It took Balem a moment to realize what was happening, took him a moment to remember where he was at that exact moment. he couldn't believe what he was seeing, what he was hearing.

"You're serious?" He managed to finally speak, looking from the black stallion back to Arvella. "I don't ride."

Arvella merely smiled back at him, gestering with a nod of her head to the black horse, who was impatiently stamping its hooves and snorting.

"It's not hard," she assured him, leaning down on her own mare, petting down its neck, "they're harmless, really, and very easy to control."

"Easy for you to say," Balem snorted, folding his arms across his chest, "you've been around them before, I haven't evens een one of these creatures before, not in person."

Arvella stared at him in disbelief for a few moments, enough to make Balem shift his feet uncomfortably.

"You're kidding."

"I'm not."

Arvella stifled a laugh, biting down on her bottom lip to prevent her from outbursting. An Abrasax, supposed leaders of the universe, champions of all around them, have not seen a horse?

"Well today's your lucky day then," Arvella beamed, handing over the reigns to the stallion to Balem, "trust me, it'll be fun."

Balem stared at the reigns for the longest time, narrowing his eyes at the thought of even holding them. He didn't want to look like a coward in front of Arvella, didn't want to appear weak as he couldn't even rise on a simple horse.

"But what if it loses control, what if I get lost somewhere out there?" He raised, becoming slightly worried as his stomach began to turn into knots. His mind was now buzzing through the limitless possibilities of what was to come, what could happen, all of the horrific ways he could be harmed while astride a beast.

Arvella shook her head, resting her hand just behind one of her horse's own twitching ear.

"It's nearly impossible for that to occur," she assured him, "all of our horses are genetically engineered to have geo-navigators programmed into them. it is almost impossible for one to get lost, let alone tossed. They are the most gentle creatures on this planet."

Her words seemed to work on Balem, but it took a few more moments. Finally, he took the reigns from her and threw a leg over the creature. After a few moments of struggling to climb aboard it, he finally made it with a triumphant 'humph'.

Arvella raised a brow as she watched him, hiding an evident smirk that was creeping across her lips. He stood there so regal, so straight, his black cloak draped across the back of the horse so elegantly. He truly looked as if he had been rising his entire life, that was until the horse began to move.

He let out a surprised yelp as the horse began to move, rather slowly in controlled steps. The sudden movement caused him to wobble, losing his balance. How he managed tos tay on top of the horse was beyond Arvella, but there he was, lifting his nose as if nothing had happened.

Arvella giggled as he opened an eye to look over to her, his expression a mix of being flustered and annoyed. She couldn't help it though, he had tried to play it off so cool, tried so hard to act like he knew exactly what he was doing. It was a adorable in a certain way, but there was no way Arvella was going to admit that out loud.

She clicked her tongue as a signal for her horse to move forard, moving her foot ever so slightly in the direction she wanted the creature to go. Before she knew it, she was trotting ahead of him easily, so gracefully as her long hair trailed behind her.

"We better get moving, then, there's much I'd like to show you," Arvella nodded, pausing just long enough to flash a mischievous grin at Balem. With that, she gave her reigns a shake with a loud shout, causing her horse to kick forward in a cloud of dust.

Balem coughed and sputtered behind her, raising his arm to protect his face form the sudden dust cloud. He waved his hand, clearing the air, before watching with dismay as Arvella raced ahead of him.

"Hey, wait!" He shouted after her, shaking his reigns to motion the horse ahead, "I don't even know how to pilot one of these!"

Eventually, Arvella had slowed down to allow the struggling Balem to catch-up, mainly because she really wasn't sure if he ever would have. He was going painfully slow, cautiously weaving his horse in and around rocks, even if the creature could easily step over them.

It was about an hour when Arvella had finally announced their first destination, and when they paused in front of a very large, vine-covered rock, Balem was indeed baffled.

"A rock?" He scoffed, stopping beside Arvella, "is this one of the great wonders of your planet...a rock?"

He really wasn't trying to be rude, but he also wasn't going to be very happy if they had traveled all this way on horseback just to see a giant boulder. Indeed, the thing was massive, it could almost be considered a mountain if it were just a bit taller. Overall the thing had to be the size of a luxury space-craft, truly something of such a scale shouldn't be out int he middle of nowhere.

"No, not just any rock," Arvella interrupted, ignoring Balem's frustration as she led her horse forward, "it, like many things here, holds a secret."

With that, she continued straight for the rock, and to Balem's utter surprise, went straight through the thick brush and vines and vanished.

"Arvella?" He questioned, raising a brow as he tilted his head to see where she had gone. To him, it looked as if she had simply gone through the rock altogether, horse and all. Curious, he edged his steed closer, and paused just before the barrier of vines. Slowly, he reached out a hand, carefully brushing his fingers against the green leaves. In a gentle motion, he parted away the entangled vines, peering inside the opening he now saw.

He didn't believe his eyes.

Before him, what he thought was going to be a vast amount of endless darkness, the cavern glowed in brilliant hues. Shades of violet, gold, and amber lighted the cavern walls from crystals that sprouted from every direction. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before.

"Do you like what you see?"

Balem's daze was broken when Arvella's voice echoed from the cavern walls, and he spotted her just ahead, proudly sitting upon her horse. The creature's once white coat was now stained with light, giving it the appearance of a stained glass window. The effect it had on Arvella was the same, but somehow, she was even more entrancing.

"It's beautiful," Balem spoke, he voice soft as he tried to take in every bit of it.

"It is a place that is sacred to us," she explained softly, the light from the crystals dancing across her eyes, "we come here when we need to remember what is important to us."

Balem looked to her, his eyes seeming to mix with confusion. Remember? What would crystals have to do with someone remembering? Perhaps it had just been a figure of speech, or there could have been a mystical property to this place he had not known yet. Either way, this place was dazzling, relaxing, and even moreso, he was becoming lost in his own thoughts.

"But this is only the beginning," she explained, her bright grin returning as she urged her horse into a gallop once more.

Balem could only laugh slightly this time as she took off once more, and this time, he was right behind her.

Arvella had led him across miles and miles of her planet's terrain, through forests filled with blooming trees to waterfalls that seemed to fall from the sky itself. They rode through grassy hills of violet and through rushing waters alike, Balem becoming lost in the ever-changing scenery.

Finally, as they day was in its final cycle, Arvella led him up a steep hill, stopping at the very top to give the horses a break. She jumped off, walking to the very edge, Balem doing the same. To his surprise, he found the hill had ended abruptly, and now they were standing at the end of a very steep cliff. The hill ended all together, the edge curling over rocks and grasses. At first, he was slightly concerned, hoping no one would fall over the edge, but then, Arvella pointed something out in the distance.

The sun was just starting to set, the hills coming alive in violent bursts of scarlet and gold. They were colors that he would have never thought he would witness, shades so vibrant it was as if they had been painted onto the sky. Just below the painted hills was her very kingdom nestled among the hills, dim lights just coming on and illuminating the small city. It almost didn't look real, it almost appeared to be something he would see in an old book, something so ancient, something so perfect.

He watched as Arvella sat down upon the grass, he legs tucked around her as she gazed out at the landscape. She glanced up to him, her violet eyes warm and inviting, and patted the spot of grass beside her.

Balem raised a brow. Normally, he wouldn't even think about sitting on the gound, subjecting himself to such thing was a symbol of peasantry. Yet, he felt comfortable with her, at least, comfortable enough to know that she wasn't about to insult him for doing so. It took every bit of convincing himself, but finally, he sat down next to her.

He crossed his legs, resting his hands on his lap as he gazed out at the darkening sky.

"What are you thinking?" Arvella asked softly as she gazed distantly off.

The corner of Balem's mouth lifted slightly, his lush lips curling into the smallest of smiles. He turned his head to her, a certain softness in his eyes, something that Arvella had yet to see. It was a look of peace, of understanding, as if he had finally relaxed after years of unrest.

"That I think I need to get out more," he laughed slightly, his brilliant white teeth catching on the fading beams of sunlight.

Arvella laughed in response, a slight breeze blowing past them, sending strands of scarlet curls into her face.

"Indeed, that is true," she giggled, turning her head to look at Balem, "and there is still so much to discover...just not enough-"

"Time." Balem finished, his smile fading as she spoke. As if something had suddenly come over him, he reached out a hand, gently placing it on her cheek as he brushed a stray claret curl from her face.

She froze in that instant, unsure of what to do. Before she could act, he drew himself closer to her, closer than she ever could have dreamed. As he cradled her face in his hand, he drew his face closer to hers, his lips coming within inches as she could feel his warm breath on her skin.

Arvella had finally snapped out of her daze and quickly leaned away, startled all of a sudden by his gesture. She looked rather flustered, her cheeks a bright scarlet. She stumbled onto her feet, brushing off her dress as she cleared her throat.

"I'm afraid we need to head back," she nodded firmly, her voice suddenly rushed, "dinner will be served shortly, we simply can't be late."

Balem leaned away, the disappointment in his face clearly evident, but he felt the heat in his face. He had not known what had come over him all of a sudden, and it was completely improper of him to do so. There was a slight sting of rejection, but he had come on too strongly, had let his instincts take over rather than proper judgment. He quickly rose to his feet, climbing on top of his steed as did Arvella, and they began the journey back to the city.

"Sorry," he apologized meekly, his head bowed as he followed behind her, "that was completely inappropriate of me."

The silence that followed was almost deafening, and it took every ounce of Arvella to reply.

"Don't be."

And she smiled.


	10. Chapter 9

Quick steps, heavy breaths, windows passed by endlessly as they raced down the halls. A wide grin, an escaped laugh, this was the most fun Arvella had experienced in ages. A rush of adrenaline, her heart racing, a tinge of fear racing down her spine.

"Don't worry," she breathed, her breath almost entirely gone, "we won't be late."

She glanced over her shoulder as Balem gave an abrupt nod, a sign that he too had lost whatever voice he could muster. Sure, they were cutting rather close on time for dinner started at 1800 sharp. Right now, after only glancing at a clock, it was nearly 5 till, and by now, they literally only had minutes left.

Arvella, however, didn't care whether they were late or not. Sure, it was horrible manners to be late when guests were here, but it was her home, so she liked to think she had a bit of an excuse. Balem, on the other hand, was completely distraught at the idea of being late, it had nearly made him go into a manic state. He didn't express his displeasure on the outside, but his dark eyes were a crystal clear reflection to his emotions.

Finally, Arvella caught sight of the grand ebony doors ahead of them, where she knew the others were waiting perhaps impatiently on the other side. Arvella stumbled to a stop in front of the doors, taking a few seconds to try and regain herself. She took in deep breaths, shutting her eyes and trying to relax, before turning to face Balem, who was doing the same.

Arvella glanced up to Balem, giving an acknowledging nod to indicate that she was ready, and when he did the same, she slowly, carefully pushed open the doors.

What she saw next took the breath right out of her once more.

For a moment, she didn't believe her eyes. The first thing her vision rested upon was the long table, staring down at it and the many silver goblets and plates that lined the dark wood. Her eyes trailed down the table and rested on her father, at least who she thought to be.

The man who faced her sitting at the head of the table was young, perhaps in his mid-twenties. His hair was a striking crimson, much like her own, except no gray lined the edges. His skin was soft and smooth, tanned and unwrinkled. For a moment, Arvella had forgotten to breathe.

"Father?" She choked out, the sound pained and confused. She didn't know what was going on, but she felt her stomach starting to churn. She trembled as she turned her head to the seat beside her father, inhaling quickly when she saw the woman who now smiled back at her.

"Mother?"

She, as well, was a much younger version of her former self, her golden hair so vibrant and full of life. Her violet eyes shimmered in the light, her teeth so bright when she smiled at her. A face so full of joy, so full of absolute elation, Arvella should have felt something similar, but only dread filled began to cloud her very state. She would have fainted if it hadn't been for another voice, one that seemed to awaken her.

"Wonderful, isn't it?"

Arvella slowly came out of the fog she was experiencing, turning her attention on none other than Seraphi. She held herself grandly at the table as if she had been the center of attention, holding her posture so high, so brilliant. Her ebony hair glistened under the crystal lights, her pale marble skin almost glowing. He lips were now painted a vibrant red, her remarkable eyes seeming to look directly through Arvella.

"What have you done to them?" Arvella managed to utter, her voice soft, trembling.

Her response ushered quick laughter from both of her parents, a small smile crossing Seraphi's lips.

"I, have done nothing," she explained, gesturing over to her parents, "I have merely presented a grand opportunity, and your parents have kindly accepted."

"Opportunity?" Arvella scoffed, her confusion quickly turning to anger as she began to realize the gravity of the situation, "by turning them into something they're not?"

Yet another round of laughs quickly filled the room, and Arvella was only growing increasingly frustrated with the replies. She was so confused, so hurt, what had Seraphi done with her parents?

"But Arvella," her mother soon answered, her voice cool and calm, "it is us."

"No," Arvella quickly retaliated, shaking her head, "it isn't...but if it is..." She shook her head, looking to the floor before looking back up to them, studying them closely.

"How?"

Arvella nearly jumped when she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder, and slowly looked over to see Balem gazing down at her, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"It is better if we show you."

Arvella gazed down at the pool before her feet, furrowing her brow as she studied the shimmering waters before her. It stayed so still like a sheet of glass, yet she could see tiny ripples from below the surface, cobalt flickers as if a light were going out. It was unlike any substance than she had ever seen before. The more she looked at it, tried to gaze down into its depths, the more she became lost, intrigued.

"We call it Regenex," Seraphi explained, stepping up behind Arvella.

Arvella glanced over her shoulder to the woman, her eyes full of curiosity.

"Is it the fountain of youth?" She tried, having read many tales about a fabled fountain before.

Seraphi merely chuckled, clasping her hands in front of her cooly.

"In a way, yes," she nodded gesturing to the pool, "think of it more as a serum, something we have created."

Arvella bit her lip, looking back at the still pool before her as she narrowed her eyes. Slowly, she knelt down so she was closer to the surface, leaning over ever so slightly. She gazed down into the dark depths, studying her reflection on its smooth surface. There was something so surreal to it, something so foreign yet strangely familiar. She gently reached out a hand, hesitating just before it touched the surface. Something kept her away, a flood of energy sweeping over her, sending chills down the spine. Yet, she needed it, needed to know.

A ripple was sent out when her delicate finger touched the surface, trails of vibrant blue streaks cascading around it. It was almost a shock, at first, but it sent a wave of pure euphoria through her, a feeling that she had never experienced. She smiled, taking a deep breath as she immersed her hand in it, moving her fingers through the liquid. It was surprisingly warm to touch but perfect in every sense. As she waved her hand around, she felt the lightness of it, felt the energizing texture it had on her skin. It was as if a thousand little beads were being bounced against her skin, as if it were neither a liquid nor solid.

She finally found the courage to draw her hand out, watching at the serum ran off of her skin. What she saw was not a hand worn from years of riding, but now as smooth as a newborn's skin. She gasped, looking it over in awe as she saw all of her wrinkles were gone, every crack and scratch she had ceased to exist. Even her nails, which she usually had a very difficult time keeping nice, were glimmering and perfect.

With wide eyes, she turned her head to look at Seraphi once more, her mouth open in complete awe at the sight. She was truly speechless.

"You will never have to worry about growing old ever again," she explained to her with a bright smile, "the serum will restore you to your pique physical condition despite whatever may ail you."

"Immortality?" Arvella finally spoke, her eyes drifting back to her hand as she looked it over. Her eyes averted to Balem as he stepped forward, his hands neatly clasped in front of him as his dark cloak trailed the ground behind him.

"Precisely."


	11. Chapter 10

She still wasn't sure how it had happened. It had seemed like only yesterday when she had met him, when she had opened up her world to show him. It seemed like only a week ago she had been wrapping his wounded hands, fending off his persistent brother. Well, it had felt that way, for the time seemed to pass at an astounding speed, sixteen years to be exact, but what a wonderful sixteen years it had been.

Her encounters with the Abrasaxes did not end with the simple treaty they had concocted with her family. In exchange for three of their finest, grandest luxury ships and a pact of protection, the Abrasaxes had provided her family with an unlimited supply of their finest export; Regenex. Her parents had used it liberally, her brother even had used it only once or twice, but Arvella, on the other hand, hadn't let her skin touch it since the first. Yes, she was 38 now, wrinkles began to wear on her face, laugh lines now plainly visible. Yet, she was not ashamed with her looks, her age, but she was concerned.

Balem and her had passed some time together the last few years, he would come to visit her on more than one occasion, and she had visited him as well. They wouldn't do anything more than to talk, take strolls around a garden or sit aboard a ship and merely read with one another. It was a good relationship, if she would even call it that, a simple friendship that she treasured more than anything else. But, there was also something that gnawed on her very being.

How did Balem now see her? Was she no longer pleasing to look at, no longer young and vibrant? Given, Balem let himself age more than his other siblings, who used the serum so freely it was as if they took a daily bath in it. With Balem, however, Arvella had noticed he aged with her, that he did not care what he seemed to look like. That brought a sort of comfort to her, and yet that feeling was still there.

She wanted to be beautiful.

"What are you thinking about?"

Arvella's head lifted from her haze, slowly turning to face him. His gleaming eyes gazed at her curiously, filled with a mixture of wonder and concern.

Arvella bit her lips as she studied him, looked past his dark hair, the sides graying. His face showed the slightest of wrinkles, of age, his eyes tired in a sense. She looked away for a moment, finally coming to a realization.

"I need to use it."

She looked up to him once more, almost guilty, as if she were ashamed of having to admit it. She didn't want to look weak to him, vulnerable, didn't want him to see such a disheveled woman, didn't want him to feel like he deserved better company. For a moment, she thought he was going to laugh at her, but instead, he merely kept his calm, straight face.

"Why?"

Why? What sort of an answer was that? Arvella had never stopped to think why she would need such a thing. She thought for a moment, going through every deep corner of her mind, her heart.

"Because I don't want to die," she admitted, feeling her eyes beginning to swell with tears, "because there is so much left of this universe that I want to see, there is so much that I don't want to leave."

Her voice was heart-wrenching, it took every ounce of her not to reduce to sobbing before him. No, she must stay strong. Then, her barrier began to crack as a single tear rolled down her cheek. She shut her eyes tightly to prevent any more from coming, tried to stifle a sob in her throat. Now she had made a fool of herself, she wouldn't blame him if he left.

But he didn't.

She jumped slightly when she felt a warm hand on her cheek, a finger wiping away her fallen tear. It was a touch so gentle, so meaningful, that she didn't even believe it was Balem. She opened her eyes, blinking away a few more tears as she looked back up to him with watery eyes, her gaze meeting his.

"You won't," he assured her, his voice soft, "I will search every star with you, every planet and galaxy. I will stay with you, forever."

Arvella was taken back by his words at first, surprised he was telling her such a thing. But his voice, so soft, so caring, so genuine, she knew he wasn't lying to her, he would never lie to her. He softly brought her face closer to his, stepping closer, pausing when he was mere inches away from her. They stood there for what seemed like centuries, staring into one another's eyes. They needn't speak any words, for they already knew what they were feeling, and it was real.

"You are my starlight," he whispered, just before he closed the gap and gently brushed his lips against hers.

Arvella closed her eyes, taking in everything that was happening that moment. The feeling of his soft lips on hers, his hand gently caressing her cheek. At first, she was frozen, unsure of what to make of it, but soon found herself deepening the kiss, closing her eyes as she enjoyed the moment. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, giving her a little more leverage as he continued to kiss her. It was unlike anything she had ever felt before, as if her heart were fit to burst outside of her chest, as if a million little torch flies were bouncing around in her gut. It was then she realized this feeling, this feeling she had denied herself so many times, was love.

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

Arvella smirked, glancing back at Balem as he lounged lazily on a bench, his hand propping up his head as he watched her hungrily, a short smirk plastered across his lips as well. She shook her head with a short laugh, turning her attention back to the task before her.

Her smile vanished as she stared at her reflection before the dark pool, watched herself as sparks of blue riveted through the waves. It was so relaxing, yet absolutely unnerving to stare into the liquid, to not know what she was to expect. She bit her lip, looking over her shoulder at Balem with pleading eyes.

"Why don't you go first?"

Balem let out a quick laugh, rolling his eyes as he stood to his feet, his silken black robe trailing the ground behind him.

"Are you really that nervous?" He inquired, raising a brow as he approached her.

Arvella furrowed her brow, annoyed that she was being picked out as being frightened. Well, in all reality, she was.

"Exactly how many times have you done this?" She challenged, folding her arms across her chest.

Balem seemed to quiet then, looking away from her as he looked to the waters.

"Far too many times to count."

His answer did not surprise her, as she had expected him to be much older than she to begin with. She knew the Abrasaxes had been around for centuries, but little did she know until a few yeard ago it had been the same generation.

She watched him as he disrobed, looking away for a moment as she felt her cheeks flush from looking at his naked form. Even if he were a bit older now, he was still in peak physical condition. His skin was flawless, pale, he was slim yet still well-toned. She found herself staring far too longer than she should have until he waded off into the deep pool. Once he was submerged to his shoulders, he turned to look at Arvella before he dove deep beneath the surface.

Arvella watched with a sudden awe as he vanished, the blue ripples surging violently around, bubbles rising as he sank deeper. She wanted to look away, wanted to be terrified and to simply run away from his experience, but she did none of that. She felt herself sigh in relief as he emerged, neither gasping nor flailing about. He emerged so calm, so collected, she was sure he was a professional with this now. His skin was now smooth, his eyes brighter, his hair no longer graying. It's usual slicked-back look was now demolished, however, as loose strands hung in front of his face. He opened his eyes, smoothing back his hair as he reached up another hand, gesturing it for her to come forward.

Arvella took a deep breath as she took a few steps forward, looking at the dark pool as she approached it. She paused before it, looking back up to Balem for reassurance as he nodded. She sighed, looking back down as she slowly disrobed, letting her violet robe fall to the ground.  
She now felt more insecure than ever, felt Balem's eyes on her. She felt ugly, old, unworthy of his gaze. No, she couldn't feel that way, not now.  
With every ounce of courage she could muster she stepped forward into the pool, feeling the warmth as the liquid began to cover her. She watched as the blue rippled began to dance around her, attracted to her skin like insects to a flame. The terror she felt was unlike any other, the possibilities fluttering through her head of what if something were to go wrong. Finally, she approached Balem, everything but her shoulders and head were submerged, and he only simply nodded to her once more.

"Just don't think about it," he reassured her, "and hold your breath."  
Arvella took a deep breath before she dove in quickly, eager to get it over with. her head disappeared below the pool, shutting her eyes tightly. She felt her skin beginning to change, something bouncing against it in numbers. It was a pleasant feeling, not painful in any way, and she was filled with instant relief, or instant happiness.

She gasped when she broke through the surface, taking deep breaths as she tried to regain the breath she had lost. She opened her eyes to see Balem gently smiling at her.

"You see? Simple," he breathed, looking her over pleasingly.

Arvella quickly looked down at her reflection, smiling when she saw her young and flawless face once more. It was had worked, it had really, truly worked.

Before she had a chance to express her utter joy, Balem cupped her face in his hands, his lips crashing into hers. It had taken her by surprise, no doubt, but the gesture was no unwelcome. It had been so raw, so emotional that she found herself lost in the kiss and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. The energy that flowed from the water swirled around them, she felt it dancing on her skin as he kissed her, trailing his kisses down her neck. She gasped, shutting her eyes as she enjoyed every minute of it, enjoyed every second she had with him, reminding herself only then that she would spend a lifetime with him, spend a lifetime with her starlight. 


	12. Chapter 11

"Here, take this."

Arvella watched cooly as Balem held his hand out to her, and in his palm a small circular device, no bigger than her pinky nail. To her it looked no more than a little piece of worthless scrap metal but knew it possessed a much greater purpose.

She took it gently, turning it over in her hand, and looked up to observe Balem placing an identical device behind his own ear. She copied and winced as the device attached itself, driving small needles just under her skin. That was a feeling she never wished to experience again.

"Perfect," Balem smiled as he reached for her, placing a delicate finger on her device, "this is a teleportation implant. It is already tuned to the ship's own telekinetic frequencies. It will take you exactly where we need to go."

Arvella closed her eyes as he withdrew his hand, opening just when he was finished explaining. She had heard of such devices, but had never used one for herself, never had the need.

"Why not just land your ship here?" She questioned, looking out the ship's grand window at the planet in question. It was vast, a great orb of dusty orange and white clouds. It was so mesmorizing, in a way, and yet still hadn't a clue why Balem had wanted her to come with him.

"It is much simpler to take ourselves there than this entire ship," he explained calmly, approaching the window as he clasped his hands behind his back, gazing out at the swirling planet.

"Exactly what is it you wanted to show me?" She asked curiously, stepping up beside him at the window, "don't tell me we're going down there. It is nothing more than a great poisonous cloud, it would mean certain death to go to such a place."

She glanced over at him worringly, wondering what exactly he was planning to do. To her surprise, he merely smirked, continuing to admire the planet.

"Believe me," he started, looking back to her, "there is more to it than meets the eye."

Arvella furrowed her brows in confusion, wondering what that had meant. before she could open her mouth to ask, Balem reached behind his ear and tapped the device, and in a single moment of morphing images, he was gone.

Arvella shook her head, a feeling of utter dread coming over her. What if her device failed to take her where Balem was? What if she ended up floating out into the middle of space? It was a horrible thought, bit for all she knew it could have been a possible outcome.

Looking out at the planet, she took a deep breath, closing her eyes before she slowly reached a hand up. She barely touched the device and was suddenly overcome by a new sensation, as if she were floating in mid air.

When she finally opened her eyes, her breath had been taken away.

The room was vast and golden, the tiled floors shining with brilliance, the walls matching. Great pillars rose up, arched windows looked on a bustling city in shades of amber. She looked up, admiring the architecture, the magnificence. She was entirely lost for words.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Balem questioned as Arvella turned to meet the voice. There he was, as if he had already been here waiting for her for an hour, lounging gracefully on a floating loveseat.

"It's...It's incredible," Arvella admitted with a smile, looking above him at the great window that exhibited his growing empire. It was spectacular, ships flew in at steady paces, towers were being built in the distance. Everything glowed as the clouds around them swirled carelessly, almost as if they were trapped in an endless storm of sand.

She looked back Balem, who now wore a smile that could only reflect how proud he was of this place, and he had every right to be smug. She watched as his expression changed to that of one more serious as he looked over Arvella's shoulder, and she could now here the soft clicking of heels against the bronze floor.

She looked over her shoulder to see none other than Seraphi herself, who wore an astonishing lovely white gown beaded with jewels of rubies. She wore her hair up simply, a matching ruby sparrow clip keeping it together tightly. She looked stunning, as usual, her flawless skin and bright eyes shining brilliantly in the metallic room.

"Lady Seraphi," Arvella greeted, curtseying immediately.

She looked down at her own dress she had chosen for today. It was a dark blue, the material shimmering as if tiny diamonds were woven into the fabric. The neckline was an elegant sweetheart, and one of her arms was covered in a sheer lace of the same color, and ruffles elegantly lined bits and pieces of it, leading into her gown. The bottom of it was much more sheer than the top, as the ruffles disappaited like clouds drifting apart in the skies. It was formfitting, yet elegant, and did not expose too much of her shimmering skin.

"Good afternoon Lady Arvella," Seraphi greeted with a kind smile, bowing her head in acknowledgment, "you look absolutely beautiful."

Arvella felt her cheeks grow wamr at her compliment, finding herself looking down at her own dress once more. Sheepishly, she looked up to Seraphi as the woman paused in front of her.

"You as well, your majesty," Arvella complimented, "as always, of course."

She glanced over her shoulder as she watched Balem arise, moving beside Arvella to face his mother, his posture so composed, so serious. He folded his hands in front of him, the sleeves to his black top falling gracefully beside him. She had noticed he had tried to match her, if not intentionally, as his shirt beneath the open black vest was a deep blue as well, with shimmering metallic material. He wore tight black leather pants to match, and also wore a peculiar golden choker around his neck. She couldn't help but wonder why he would choose something that looked so uncomfortable, but she would not question his choices.

"Quite impressive thus far, I must say," Seraphi comlimented Balem, looking above her at the towering pillars, "it is far larger than I had originally thought."

Balem kept his composure and began to walk, gesturing for the two of them to follow. As they walked the large cooridor to a set of vast double doors, both gleaning with new metal.

"Jupiter is the largest planet in this solar system," he explained, "it is a gas giant, and until now there wasn't a speck of solid material to build off on."

Arvella listened, absolutely astounded at everything she heard. She looked out of the windows as they walked, admiring the swirling amber clouds she had seen before.

"Using a gravity shield I am able to keep the center of this planet clear from storms," he explained, turning to gesture at the massive curving beams from outside the window, ones that seemed to hold up a massive dome.

"Ingenius," Seraphim beamed, her smile glistening, "truly such a great accomplishment, this will be the center of your great empire."

"So it's a city?" Arvella interrupted, causing Balem and Seraphi to stop in their tracks before her. She stopped behind them, watching as the mother and son smiled knowingly at eachother, a chuckle escaping Balem's throat.

"I suppose, it is a city in a way," he smiled, his jade eyes glistening knowingly, "but it is more a refinery than anything else."

"A refinery?" Arvella questioned, "exactly what type of product are you producing to need a factory of this massive scale?"

Balem looked back to his mother, exchanging a look that could only be deciphered by the two of them. Arvella hated that feeling, of being left out of something so secretive, so knowing.

"It's easier that I show you," Balem nodded, proceeding to walk out of the large sliding doors.

Arvella followed the two down winding walkways, hallways so tall that it was nearly incomprehensible to know the scale of this place. Finally, they reached a metal lift that took them down to the next floor. When the doors opened she gasped.

Lining the walls of a massive room filled with shelves were thousands of vials of a shimmering white liquid. Everywhere Arvella looked she saw hundreds of cannisters at a time, and down the cooridor it was seemingly endless. She watched as workers used floating disks to fly up to the shelves, using a small device to levitate as many vials as they needed. They then took off through tubes near the top of the ceiling, going she knew not where. Other workers replenished the shelves with new vials, and she watched as the process repeated, over and over.

Balem led them through the room, plucking one of the vials from the shelves. He waited for Arvella to walk up beside him, and handed it over to her gingerly.

"This is premium refined Abrasax," Balem explained as she took the vial carefully, "the U niverse's most sought after commoditie."

"Regenex?" Arvella acknowledges, looking over the cannister of liquid in her hand.

She recognized the substance anywhere, as she and her family used it often now, at least when they needed it most. It was what had been keeping her alive over these many years, keeping her youthful and pristine. She had actually lost track of her actual age, but she knew it had been at least a century. She had used this liquid so many times it no longer mattered how old she was, and her family now would only celebrate millenia.

"It has many names," Seraphi stepped in, "Abrasax, Regenex, Nectar, but this is the purest in all of the galaxies."

Arvella looked from the glass container to Seraphi, studying her expression. When she talked about this liquid she seemed so alive, so full of energy, pride. Arvella then knew this had been her legacy, her beginning, her secret to her success. Now, she was passing this to Balem, teaching him her ways.

"So how is it made?" Arvella asked curiously, handing the vial back to Balem, "is it from some sort of plant?"

"That comes to the next part of the tour," Balem grinned, gesturing for them to follow him. He led them out of the room to another corridor, taking a few turns until they were met with another set of elegant bronze doors.

In a flourish, he entered first, followed by Seraphi, and last once more was Arvella.

The room reminded her of a sort of a sick bay, the walls were arched, covered in a gray stone. Lined up in rows were glass pods, all seemed to be equipped with devices of sorts. Needles, clamps, tubes, it all felt so sterile to her. Now, she was confused, had he simply led them to a medical wing instead?

"This is one of five hundred and twenty refineries," Balem explained as he led them down the rows of chambers, clasping his hands behind his back, "each refinery is equipped with five thousand two hundred and sixty pods."

"And how quickly can each one be processed?" Seraphi asked as they walked, clearly impressed with the setup.

"Approximately 21 seconds depending on the size," Balem answered cooly, "even faster for the smaller ones."

Arvella was clearly missing out on something at this point, and her mind raced when they spoke of harvesting. What exactly were they harvesting? Surely it had to have been a fruit or vegetable, maybe even trees, but the way they spoke of it...something was wrong.

"Can I ask exactly what is being harv-" She lurched to a halt as she felt her stomach tighten, her eyes falling upon a seen she surely wanted to, but could never, forget.

Instead of staring upon endless pods, she was now faced with one that was now occupied. Inside was not a fruit, not a vegetable nor a tree, but a little girl. Arvella could tell she couldn't be more than 6 years old at most, with pale white skin and where there should have been hair, she had none. She looked like she was sleeping, so peaceful. She wasn't wearing anything, and surrounding her were tubes and wires, and buried into her skull and body were numerous needles, drilling even deeper.

"Ah, we are just in time for one of your more recent harvest's," Seraphi smiled, looking on as even more people were being floated into the pods.

Arvella felt sick.

Her stomach twisted as she watched the drills going even deeper into the girl's skull, the whirring of thousands of machines engraining themselves into her head. She wanted to scream, wanted to cry, wanted to forget everything she had just seen, but she had to do something.

Without thinking, she rushed over to the pod with the little girl, slamming her hands down on the glass as she began to weep, began to plead.

"Please! Get her out!" She wept, slamming her fists down onto the pod. The glass did not budge under her strength, didn't even crack as she pounded, screaming for the little girl to wake up. They were torturing her, killing her, taking away her life right before her eyes.

Balem, nearly frozen entirely from shock, quickly rushed over to Arvella, grasping her arms tightly as he tried to pry her away, his eyes wild from fear. Arvella quickly struggled in his grasp, twisting and turning so she could try to escape, but his grip proved stronger than her will.

"Oh don't worry, dear," Seraphi merely laughed with a gesture on her hand, "the girl is already dead. I assure you, they feel no pain during the process."

"No!" Arvella cried, her voice cracking as tears freely fell across her cheeks, "she's just a little girl...she's just..."

At last she gave up her struggle, collapsing onto the ground in a heap. She buried her head in her hands, sobbing into them softly. Balem released his grip, his hands shaking from the experience, his mouth slightly ajar as he looked down upon her. Slowly, carefully, he lowered himself to her, crouching down on his knees as he placed his hands ever so gently on her shoulders.

"Mother is right..." He told her quietly, his voice now a whisper as he shook, "it is a painless process, it is just as if they are falling asleep."

In that moment, Arvella ceased her sobbing. With a sudden quickness she shook her shoulders, causing Balem to remove his hands almost immediatly. she was silent, still, her cheeks wet with her ruined makeup. Slowly, she stood up, closing her eyes as she thoguht things over in her head, a million things running through it all at once.

"How many?" She asked, her voice quiet, shaky.

Silence.

"HOW MANY?!" She shouted, turning to face them, her eyes now an angry shade of nightshade.

She glared at them accusingly, both Balem and Seraphi silent and still. Seraphi looked rattled, her face now began to spread with a certain fear, and Balem had already crossed that line many moments ago.

"One hundred will make one unit of Abrasax," Seraphi finally answered, clearing her throat. Arvella could tell, she was triyng so hard to keep her composure, with her hands neatly folded in front of her, except she was fidgeting. She was scared.

"A hundred?" Arvella repeated, her expression softening as it went to sorrow once more. It was disbelief that left her throat in airy gasps, her mind now drifting apart.

Slowly, she looked out at all of the others, all of the other lives that were slowly being drained. She watched as that clear liquid left them, being taken through tubes out of the room, she not know where. It was so surreal, and she was so helpless.

19...20...21...

Gone.

She ran the numbers through her head one by one, counting as they died in front of her, all falling asleep to never again wake up.

And then she ran.

She barely heard Balem scream her name as she took off, casting her heels aside as she rushed out of the room, desperate for some air. she could not share the same air as thousands of them died around her, could not bear the weight it cast on her.

Finally, she found herself in an empty hall, where tall windows overlooked the expanding refinery. She watched as ships came in, imagined the recent harvests being unloaded, and imagined them all being placed into pods, being drained so she could live.

Suddenly, she felt a hand clasp on her shoulder, turning her around forcefully. There she was met with Balem, the concern and sorrow etched deeply into his face.

"Please...Arvella, please try to understand," he begged her, his eyes bearing into hers. He was so flustered, his hair had been thrown astray while is had been so well-kept before.

Arvella simply stared at him, looking over his shoulder as Seraphi approached them as calmly as she did before.

"She must understand that in every human society there is a pyramid," Seraphi began, her voice cool and collected, "and that there will always be lives that matter more than others."

"Is someone's life really worth more than thousands of others?" Arvella replied, narrowing her eyes at Seraphi as her tone grew colder, "each life is precious. These people...they aren't a resource. They have lives, families, dreams, destinies...just like us." her voice began to crack as she felt tears well up once more, but no, she had to stay strong.

She shook off Balem's hand once more as she approached Seraphi, pausing mere feet before her as she looked her straight in the eyes.

"I cannot live knowing that so many others have died just so I can live another day," Arvella spoke through gritted teeth, her voice firm, "and anyone who can live without seeing the faces, hearing the screams of so many that have been sacrifised-"

Arvella paused, taking a deep breath before glancing back from Balem, and back to Seraphi.

"-are monsters."

Arvella watched Seraphi's expression morph, her eyes softening, her lips parting to protest, but she said nothing. What filled her dark eyes was a hint of sorrow, perhaps regret, and Arvella had seen enough.

With that, she turned on her heels, looking to Balem once more as she headed for the corridor. Her stride was confident, her eyes were no violet pools of understanding, of pure grief, of anguish. What she told him next would be the last for a long time to come.

"Goodbye."


	13. Chapter 12

"Why are you doing this?"

His words echoed across the room, broken, weak. He waited, waited so long for an answer, and yet he was greeted with silence.

"WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?!"

Finally, the figure stirred across the room, her form silhouetted by the soft glow of the night sky behind her, where thousands of stars sparkled through a galaxy of spiraling clouds.

"Do you not wish to see me this way?" She replied, slowly turning to face him.

Her once flawless skin was now wrinkled, her eyes were so tired, so drained of life. It pained him to look upon her like this, to see such a powerful leader shrivel before him. She couldn't leave him, no, not after all they had been through.

"You can't do this," he pleaded, trying to hold back his tears as he clenched his teeth, "you can't leave me."

The woman closed her eyes, taking a few steps towards him, her hands folded solemnly before her. The black robe she wore was simple and trailed the ground around her as she glided across the floor.

"I'm afraid my life must come to an end, Balem," she answered calmly, "I'm afraid I'm already past my intended expiration date."

Balem's fists clenched as he felt his throat tighten, his eyes stinging with tears. He looked upon her with grief and rage, merely asking for an answer.

"Why, mother?"

Seraphi glanced away from him, looking off out at the vast expanses of the starry sky before her, her eyes reflecting her very galaxy around her. She looked so surreal, so at peace with everything, Balem could barely believe she was speaking of her own death.

"I've come to a realization," she admitted, looking back to Balem, "I have lived such a long, prosperous life. I have seen things that some could never imagine seeing. I have seen so much death, so much life, and yet my life is still as empty as it began."

"You're not making any sense," Balem pointed out, furrowing his brow in frustration, "you are living a wonderful life, if you require anything else it shall be given to you. You have me."

His voice was starting to crack, his hands trembling as he spoke. He tried to hold back the tears, tried to deny that everything that she spoke was the truth.

"That is true," Seraphi spoke, a smile appearing on her face, "I have been given three beautiful children, one each as special as the others. I would not trade anything in this world for any of you, I do not regret a second of the moments I have shared."

She paused, looking away from Balem as her expression softened, as a look of sorrow filled her eyes.

"But I do regret many other things. I regret what I did to your father, I regret not being there more for my children, and I regret ever starting a legacy that I cannot destroy."

Balem watched as she unfolded her hands and looked down upon them, turning them over as she studied every wrinkle. Balem listened to her, and with every word she spoke he only grew more enraged, more confused.

"Regenex is the single most important thing we have," Balem argued, wondering why she had regretted such a thing, "we prosper from it, it is what keeps us all alive."

"Indeed," Seraphi agreed, glancing to Balem, "but what of all of the billions of lives we have already sacrificed for so few other lives? They had dreams just like us, lives, loves that may have never come to be. Why do we have to decide who lives and who dies?"

"Because we are better than them," Balem answered through gritted teeth, narrowing his eyes, "you said it yourself, you told me that others must die so the better may live. We are their gods, we create them, and we can destroy them."

"No," Seraphi answered defiantly, holding her head up high as she stared at her son, "we are not gods. We are the same flesh and blood that make up them. We may have planted their seeds, but our lives are the same as theirs, just our technology and knowledge seperate us from them. The debts must be paid, for all of the lives I have taken...destroyed...I must die. All will be right then."

Balem's lip curled into a sneer as he began to choke on a sob, furious that his reasoning was getting him nowhere. He remembered when they had used to talk freely, just the two of them, talk about anything and everything. She would tell him stories, tell him about every inch of the galaxy. Of all the planets, the stars, the ships and the people. She knew more about this universe than anyone he had ever known.

Now, she was dying.

"What about me, mother?" Balem sobbed, his voice growing eerily quiet, "what will I do?"

Seraphi lifted her head, looking across to him sadly. Slowly, she approached him, closing the distance between them before stopping before him. Her gleaming eyes gazed into his, the sorrow evident as he stared into them. Slowly, she brought her hands on to either side of his face, cradling his cheeks softly, wiping away stray tears lightly with her thumbs. She guided his head down as she leaned up on her toes, placing a kiss gentle kiss on his forehead.

"You are so strong, Balem," she smiled brightly, lowering herself, "but you are young. Please, do not repeat the mistakes I have made...do not lose sight of the people who are most important to you."

Balem stared at her accusingly, his eyes turning to slits in a matter of seconds. He could almost feel his insides tearing in half, a part of him wanting to scream at her, and the other just wanted to weep into her arms.

"I will never lose her," Balem snarled, getting exactly what she was implying, "Arvella loves me more than anything in this entire existence."

Seraphi's smile faded as quickly as it had come, and she merely gave her son a look of deepest pity.

"Then why has she not come back to you?" She asked innocently, slowly releasing her hands from his face, "why does she not come back into your arms telling you so?"

Balem's fists trembled at her words, they stung him like they had never done before. She was wounding him ever so slowly, each gaping hole that formed within him quickly spread, leaving him with a feeling of pure nothingness, a void he could not fill fast enough. He wanted to tell her so many things, wanted to take back her lies, but his lips would not move, they were sealed from the horrible things he would say.

"If you do not give up this life, this poisonous life I have led you into," she began, tears glistening in her eyes, "then everything you love will be destroyed, and you will have nothing." With that, her face grew serious once more, that stern look he knew so well.

"Destroy that factory, Balem," she demanded, "destroy it or it shall consume you. Spend the rest of your natural life with her, don't be like your mother."

"That factory will provide us with a lifetime of Abrasax," Balem defended, his voice on the edge of breaking as he quivered, "I will become the most powerful man in all of the Universe."

He watched as his mother's face dropped, saw something in her expression that he had hoped he would never see. Disappointment.

"I WILL BECOME A GOD!" He cried out, jerking away from her as his verdant eyes flashed with rage. His jaw clenched as he stepped towards her once more, leaning down so he was eye to eye with her, watching as she stared back with equal intensity.

"How dare you say that I will lose her?" He hissed, strands of hair falling into his face, "I will never lose her, she is mine and mine alone."

Seraphi's eyes burned intently into Balem's, a certain strength exuberating from her. She looked so fragile, so wrinkled and frail, and yet her composure was as strong as it had been years before.

"She will never love you," she whispered to him, her eyes narrowing, "she can never love someone who could continue killing without one single ounce of remorse. If you do not stop this, give up this inheritance I have cursed you with, you will live forever, but Arvella, she will die with or without you."

"NO!" Balem screamed, a primal sound lurching from his throat as he lunged at her. He felt his hands wrap around her neck as he knocked her to the ground, her eyes filled with fear.

He remembered squeezing, his eyes blurred with tears as he watched her choke, her lungs desperately trying to grasp for the air that was barely out of reach. She struggled against him, clawing at the sheer fabric on his skin, clinging to whatever life she had left. Then, she stopped.

He sobbed as her eyes softened, looking into his as the fear slowly slipped away from them, replaced with a certain peace he would never forget. He wanted to let go so desperately, wanted to let go of her and when he did she would be back to normal, speaking of futures and dynasties. She would be his mother again if he let go, if only he could.

"Balem..." She rasped, her hands releasing the rumples of fabric she clung to, "please..."

Balem wept sorrowfully as her final words parted her lips and a single tear trickled down her cheek. Her dancing eyes glazed over as her head rolled to the side, Balem's grip still tight around her throat.

"Mother?" He asked, his voice strained as he slowly unclasped his hands from her neck, where red ghosts of his fingers still remained on her pale skin.

Seraphi, her majesty of the Abrasax Dynasty, was dead. His mentor, his savior, his mother, was dead.

He collapsed beside her in a heap, kneeling down on broken knees as he cried, looking up to nothing as he cried. He did not know to where, to who he screamed, cursed, wept, but to whoever it was, he was sure they were not listening, for they would have already brought her back.

He looked back down to his hands, shaking from the mess he had become. there was no blood, no trace of anything on him that would have suggested such a thing, and yet here they were, the murder weapon. No, he did not kill her, for to him, she had already died a long time ago.


	14. Chapter 13

If Arvella had not known any better, she would have thought she was attending a grand celebration. The ballroom was adorned with various spectacular decoractions, golden beads hung from the ceiling like the branches of willows, sparkling in the dozens of ruby chandeliers that lit up the room. Hundreds of conversations erupted around her, laughter, smiles, the clinking of expensive crystal and smell of wine wafting across her nose. Yes, it did feel like a celebration indeed.

Her dark violet gown trailed the ground around her as she walked forward, hundreds of flickering candles glowing around her feet. She watched them warily, dream-like, the flames dancing in her eyes. She folded her hands neatly in front of her, head bowed, avoiding the stares, the whispers, of everyone else around her. She was only here for one purpose, and only for one person.

She looked up at the statue before her, of the young woman with the oldest eyes. She stared blankly ahead of her, carved face frozen with a look of strength, a look of undying wisdom. She was so beautiful, so regal, and now she was gone. Arvella bowed her head, looking down from the statue as her eyes fell upon her still form.

Her casket has been carved of pure gold and priceless jewels, sparkling in the candlelight vigil that surrounded her. Arvella dared to take a step closer as her eyes fell upon Seraphi's face, she looked so peaceful, as if she were only sleeping. Arvella could tell she had far too much makeup on, something so odd as Arvella knew that Seraphi had always tended well to her looks with the use of Abrasax. Upon closer inspection, Seraphi had in fact aged since the last time Arvella had seen her, over 20 years ago. Her wrinkles were still apparent underneath all of the powders and creams that had been applied, her hair had been dyed an unnatural color to hide the graying hairs, a regal crown the same in her statue placed upon her head. She wore a gown of ivory, her hand folded over her stomach, hands clutching a handful of orchids.

Arvella closed her eyes for a moment, bowing her head as she spoke a silent goodbye, the only thing she could do for Seraphi now. She stepped forward, taking a small wooden stick and lighting it on one of the candles, and then lit her own candle as she sat it with the others. Just a flame to remember her by, one to last a lifetime. She stood back up and turned around, keeping her head low once more as to avoid any unwanted attention. She had paid her final respects, it was time for her to go.

She kept a quick, steady pace towards the large doors, eager to return home once more and out of the public's eye. She had hidden away for so long, avoiding everything, keeping to her studies and solitude. What had drawn her to come to the funeral, she did not know, but when she had last seen Seraphi she had seen something in her eyes; regret. That one ounce of emotion was enough to draw Arvella here, enough to say her goodbyes one last time. She truly hoped that she would get to know Seraphi better, but now it was too late.

She was nearly to the door until she felt a chilling hand clutch her shoulder, a chill that made her freeze down to her core. She stopped abruptly, a breath hitching in her throat as she imagined the face behind her, felt the eyes staring into the back of her head.

"I was afraid you wouldn't make it."

It was a voice she had wished never to hear again. She closed her eyes, trying to convince herself that it was merely a trick of her mind. She couldn't bear to look at him once more, couldn't bear the torment that she felt, but instead, she inhaled deeply.

"I am here to pay my respects and nothing more," she replied stoically, lifting her head without facing him.

Her voice was cold and barren, the words sliding off her tongue easily, carefully. She had to maintain her control, her carefulness, she couldn't reveal any weakness.

She exhaled when she felt the hand leave her shoulder, glad that perhaps her point had been taken, but stiffened when her pursuer stepped in front of her instead.

When she met the eyes of Balem Abrasax for the first time after more than two decades, she felt her entire being weep at the sight of him. After all this time, she didn't know what she had expected to see, but he appeared youthful as always, ageless. But his eyes, something deep within them was off, unsettling. Something within them had dimmed, flickered, something dangerous was stirring within him. The feeling she got as she stared at him was dread, a dread of what were to happen if she gazed into his eyes longer than she had wanted.

"I am glad to see you," Balem replied, his voice a barely audible hoarse whisper. It was a sound that was chilling, shaky, a tone that made Arvella shiver once more. "It has been far too long."

He stood there so politely, arms folded in front of him, his black robes trailing the floor around him, a golden collar wrapped tightly around his neck. Arvella looked him over, trying to find the words to compose herself, trying to find something amidst the chaos that was now consuming her mind.

"Time is only a matter of perspective," Arvella answered, her tone unwavering as she spoke.

She watched as Balem's expression changed, his brows furrowing, his lips tightening. She would have smiled triumphantly if there had been different circumstances, but for now she kept her calm. She knew she was not telling him what he had wanted to hear, and that was exactly the way she had wished to keep it, she was in control here, not Balem.

"I missed you," he tried once more, his voice cracking as sorrow slipped into his voice, his eyes now pleading for mercy. Arvella could tell he was a much different man now than when she had last seen him, but this different was not necessarily good.

"My deepest condolences for you and your family's loss," Arvella replied, clutching her hands even tighter together than before, wishing that she had only walked a bit faster, "Seraphi was a great leader and a dear friend."

She watched as Balem's eyes narrowed, a certain fire flaring within them as she had seen before. There was something so spontaneous about them, something so unbalanced that she only wanted to run from it. But, as quickly as that fire had come, it quickly vanished, leaving only two dark and empty pools of sorrow.

Arvella stiffened when Balem suddenly took a few quick steps towards her, coming dangerously close to her. He leaned forward, enough so his face was barely inches from her, so close she could smell the stale wine on his breath. She averted her eyes from his, intimated by his closeness, afraid of what he saw in her. She hated this feeling and for a moment only wished for a pair of wings so she could fly away.

"You look so much like she did when she died," Balem observed as Arvella felt his eyes staring into her, avoiding his hungry gaze.

She knew he was talking about her wrinkles, the gray in her hair, her age was now showing. Ever since she had seen the factory, she had refused to use that vial serum. She knew she did not fit in with this crowd, did not blend in with their unnatural youth, but she did not care.

"I admire her courage," Arvella began, daring to look Balem once more in his eyes, "for it takes more courage to show ones flaws than to hide underneath a cowl of something we are not."

Balem's jaw tightened ever so slightly at her words, his eyes straining to fight back a few stray tears.

"You need not waste away like this," he whispered lowly, his voice shaking, "Arvella, I love you, and always will. I will not lose you like I have lost her."

Arvella gazed into his eyes for the longest time, taking in the regret they emitted, the sorrow, the rage. She could tell he was tormented, she knew that he was very close with his mother, but there was nothing she could do for him now, it was too late.

"Then let me go," Arvella whispered back to him, her gaze firm as she moved past him. She half-expected him to chase after her, to grab at her arm and refuse to let her go, but he didn't. She did not know which would have hurt more, but for now, she knew she had to keep moving forward, and she did not look back.

She knew that she would never see him again.


	15. Chapter 14

The ships moved in, unloaded, took off. Several times a minute, the same process, massive ships. In, then out, in, then out. He watched them tirelessly, watched as they carried in new shipments, carried in the bounty from the most recent harvest. They would continue this process for a few more days now, as it had been an expceptionally robust planet. Good for business, as usual.

He leaned against his sofa lazily, a single finger propping up his head as he crossed one leg over the other. There was a certain peace he found while watching his factory flourish, a certain relaxation he found from watching the rusty storm clouds swirl endlessly above him. He found peace in his work, stability, found peace in knowing that this greatness was his destiny.

"Lord Balem."

His thoughts were disturbed by a familiar crackling of a voice and the scuttled footsteps that followed. Balem raised a hand and the footsteps stopped.

"Why have you bothered me, Chicanery?" Balem croacked, his voice raspy and quiet.

He heard the pale figure behind him swallow hard, could sense the sweat beginning to trail down his skin. Whatever news his advisor brought, it was not going to be good.

"Apologies, my lord," Chicanery stammered, bowing his head as he wrung his hands in front of him, "but I bring news from the Silaverius Estate."

Balem's breath hitched in his throat when the name crossed his ears. It had been a name he had not heard in a long time, a name he had not wished to hear ever again. So many memories rushed through his head, her laugh, her smile, her eyes, her touch. They were so warm, so welcome, but now they cut him like knives.

He glanced down to notice that his hand was now clenched, his nails digging into the palm of his hand as he shook. No, he had to regain himself, had to keep his calm.

"And what news is this?" He managed quietly, voice shaking, just on the edge of shattering.

"It is news of Lady Arvella," Chicanery managed, trembling, "her family has stated she is in a critical state and she is not expected to make it through the evening. They have requested your presence, that is, if you wish to say your goodbyes."

The silence that followed was deafening. Balem felt something snap within him, something that he had not felt for a very long time, not since he had last seen his mother alive. Was it anger? No, rage?

Something was building inside of him, the pain, the loss, it was going to happen all over again. No, he could not bear it.

With that, Balem stood up silently, his dark robes folding around him in the cool silence. Shaking, he folded his hands in front of him, keeping his head high, refusing to turn and face his advisor. Looking ahead at his factory, his legacy, his eyes began to sting with tears as he fought them back.

"Prepare a ship at once," Balem ordered, voice trembling as a stray tear trickled down his cheek, "NOW!"

His sudden outburst caused Chicanery to jump back, and immediately the advisor bowed with respect.

"At once my lord," he stammered, backing away with another nervous bow. With that, he turned around, racing away to what Balem could only assume was to alert the docking bay of his departure.

When he was sure Chicanery had left, Balem turned his head to look down the corridor, quickly wiping racing tear on his sleeve. He had no time to waste, for there was no time at all.

He quickly turned around and strode quickly down the hall, his boots clicking against the floor noisily. He glanced over to the tall windows before him, caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror-like walls. He was aged, his hair graying, appearing to be in his mid-forties. He had not used Abrasax for a long time, for sometimes he did not see a point. He looked away, the wrinkles reminding him too much of his mother as he continued, hands folded as he headed for his ship. He had to make it there, he had to get to her.

The palace was so different than the last time he had seen it. The marble columns, the beautiful gardens, they were all still there, so immaculate and rich. The marbled floors glistened when he walked over them, the pale sunlight that crept through the decorative windows and passed over his face, such warm air. And yet, everything was different.

The moment he had stepped onto the planet he had felt it. A heaviness, a certain darkness that took hold of every ounce of his being, a feeling of utmost dread. It suffocated him, made him want to turn back, for he had felt this before, it had been there the night his mother died; Death.

Now he was running out of time. He moved quickly, almost gliding across the floor like a phantom force, paying no mind to the various other visitors lining the halls, whispering their well-wishes and prayers. He ignored their stares, their lies, their insults and praise. He didn't need them, she didn't need them.

When he finally reached the grand ivory doors he paused, watching as a few visitors exited. One shook their head, the other merely laughed.

"What a waste."

Balem would have torn his throat out if the circumstances were different, but instead he reached out for the handle and took a deep breath.

"I wouldn't go in there if I were you."

The voice made him freeze, for he had wished he wouldn't have heard that particular one here. He made no move to turn his head, and instead stared at the door in front of him, seemingly ignoring who had addressed him.

Titus stepped forward so he was standing beside his brother, hands neatly folded behind his back, that unending smirk across his face.

"I'm being entirely serious dear brother," Titus chimed, stepping to the side so Balem could see him clearly, "she looks absolutely dreadful, like one of those mummies buried in the sand for thousands of years. Almost as bad as you if I might say."

Balem had every right to knock the living daylights out of Titus, and right when he clenched his fist another voice had chimed in.

"Now, now Titus," Kalique scolded, approaching the two as she stood on Balem's other side, "now is not the time to make insults."

Balem turned his head to acknowledge his sister, who since the last time he had seen her had not yet used Abrasax. She appeared to be the same age as him for the time being, the only exception being the ever-vain Titus.

"Kalique," Balem nodded, his voice quiet as he tried to disguise the trembling.

"I'm glad you came, Balem," Kalique sighed, offering an empathetic smile, "she would have wanted you here."

"Please," Titus interrupted with a laugh, "if she had actually wanted you here wouldn't you think she would have made some sort of attempt to contact you these last ninety years?"

Balem turned his head to face Titus, his eyes narrowing as his jaw clenched. Titus always knew exactly what to say to get on Balem's nerves, knew exactly how to shorten his temper. At this point, Balem would usually have a sarcastic comeback, a way of shutting up his brother. Now, he had nothing, for deep down he knew that his brother was right.

"Obviously she lived a happy, full life," Titus smirked, taking a moment to look over the palace, "she has accomplished so much for her family. Did you know she managed to cut fuel usage for the new models by three hundred and twenty percent? Simply stunning, and all done without you."

His words cut deeply into Balem, almost as if he had torn out his heart. As much as he didn't want to hear those words, he knew he would have heard them at one point. She didn't need him to make her happy, to make her life worth living.

"Titus!" Kalique hissed, snapping at her brother like a crocodile.

Balem watched as Titus shied away ever so slightly, his jaw tightly closing as he watched the venom in Kalique's eyes. It was a look Balem had seen many times before, a look that could even bring Titus down from his pedestal.

"You should go, Balem," Kalique insisted, gesturing to the door, "you need to say your goodbyes, she hasn't got much time left."

Kalique opened the door for Balem, nodding for him to enter. Balem knew Kalique was right, but after listening to Titus he doubted himself. He did not wish to cause more pain to Arvella, did not wish to see her in such a state. He didn't know what to expect, but at the same time he knew exactly was was to happen. He nodded, wordless and silent, as he entered the chamber, giving one last look to Kalique before turning away, and the door shut behind him.

The darkness that Balem had felt before was even stronger now that he had entered the chamber. The room was darkened, the windows covered with placid blue drapes, only trickles of faint sunlight made it through. Balem could feel the weight on his chest only growing heavier as he made his way slowly across the room, to the place he dreaded to near.

The bed was grand, old in looks as it mimicked a much simpler time. The grand oak headboard was ornately decorated, the canopy above it looming with such violet, quiet grace.

"Hello, Balem."

His eyes traveled from the bed to three figured who stood beside it, so palid and still, as if they were carved from marble. He met the striking golden eyes of Batair, his blonde hair so lifeless in the dimly lit room. He was just as young as Balem had remembered him, no doubt the Abrasax had been working its miracle on him for a very long time. Beside the young Lord stood his parents, the Lord and Lady Silaverius. They too looked as if they had been indulging a bit too much. They no longer looked their middle-aged self, with graying hairs and hairline wrinkles, now they looked like completely different people, two fake-looking figures.

"Lord Batair," Balem nodded to him, then glanced over to the parents, "Lord and Lady Silaverius."

The two nodded in return almost simultaneously, both expressions so grim and solumn. He could tell both had been crying for quite some time, they were doing their best now not to release any more tears.

"She would have wanted you here," Lady Silaverius nodded, her voice no more than just a hoarse whisper.

"Please, spare me of those lies," he whispered back, the sadness seeping into his expression. He didn't need their condolences, didn't need their lies and pity. He knew the truth, Arvella had wanted nothing to do with him and his family since she had left them. She had made no effort to come in contact with them, made no point to sit and talk with him, the last time he had seen her was at his mother's funeral. Why she had bothered to attend was beyond him. Perhaps she had felt guilty and wanted to make an effort to clear her own conscience, or perhaps she had hoped to see him. Whatever the reason, it was all too late now, and this would be the last time he would see her.

He barely recognized her when he approached the skeletal figure lying in bed. Her once glowing auburn hair was now as white as freshly fallen snow, so fine and faint it surrounded her in waves. Her skin was merely a shell of what it once was, so paper thin and shriveled. It wrapped around her sullen cheekbones like a sheet. The swirling designs in her skin had faded as well, their glow only faintly shimmering in the light.

He walked up next to her as if he were approaching a frightened animal, kneeled beside her bed so quietly and gently. At first, he was afraid to touch her, afraid to utter anything as he was afraid to harm her any further.

"Arvella," he whispered quietly, reaching a hand across the bed. He rested it atop of hers beside her, nearly reeling back from the coldness of her skin. He relaxed and wrapped it around hers gently, rubbing his thumb across her fragile skin. "I'm here."

Her eyes opened just barely at first at the sound of his voice, barely slits as they blinked shut once more. But when he touched her, when he had told her he was here, they opened the widest they had been in a long time. If everything else had been unrecognizable about her, her bright violet eyes were not. He then knew it was his Arvella he held in his hand, the same woman he had loved so long ago. Those bright eyes of her stared at the ceiling for the longest time, until they found their way to his.

When her gaze reached his it was enough to make him nearly weep. It didn't take her more than a second to recognize him, but the feeling he got from them, the remorse, regret, the anger, those feelings came back to him in waves. He waited, waited for the longest time for her to say something, anything, but only silence followed.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice choking back the sobs he had tried so hard to hold in, "for everything."

Her eyes still held the same stare, the coldness, the sadness. His words had changed nothing and he found himself weeping, weeping over the time he had lost with her, the time he had given up.

"Please, let me make it up to you," he sobbed, squeezing her hand tightly, "I can show you, I can change. Please don't let your life go to waste, I'm here for you, I'll always be here for you."

Her violet eyes blinked slowly at his words, but her expression, it had softened ever so slightly.

"Balem," she whispered, her voice course and weak.

Balem brought his face closer to hers, eager to hear whatever she had to say to him.

"Please, let me go."

Her words nearly sent him over the edge, the amount of agony he felt was beyond repair. After all this time, after all they had been through, she still wanted nothing more to do with him. A mixture of pure sorrow and rage filled his core, the same feeling he had felt when his mother had given up on her own life. A feeling of Deja Vu swept over him, and for a moment he saw the face of his pleading mother once more.

"I won't let you die like she did," he told her hoarsely through gritted teeth, "I won't let you..."

At that moment Arvella closed her eyes, her breathing shallowing out. He felt her grip grow colder, he knew these were her last moments. Without thinking, he scooped up her fragile body into his arms, ignoring the shouting and protests from her family. He had forgotten what was running through his head as he made his way across the ship, holding her tightly to his chest, she barely weighed anything at all.

When he reached the pool he paused, wondering what he was doing. No, this wasn't what Arvella would have wanted at all, he knew that. But when he looked down at her face, watched as her breathing grew more and more scarce, he knew that he couldn't lose her, not like his mother.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the clear pool, feeling the coolness of the serum seeping into his robes, clinging onto his skin. He brought her into the pool with him, watching as her life began to slip away, she was almost gone. Slowly, he submerged her body, holding his breath as he dove into it as well, holding her close to him. He opened his eyes, watching as the serum glowed blue around them, wrapping around their skin in a dance of colors. He watched as her face transformed, her skin regaining the life and light it had once held.

Unable to hold his breath any longer, he re-emerged, gasping for air. He brought her up with him, bringing her head above the pool. He watched the beads of serum roll off her pale skin, her youthful face recognizable once more. he smiled at her, running his hand down her cheek, waited for her to open her eyes and smile at him like she had done so long ago.

Except, she didn't.


End file.
